


The one you call Severus Snape

by magalud



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Magical Creatures, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, post-DH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magalud/pseuds/magalud
Summary: The aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts is just the beginning of the struggle to save the one you call Severus Snape
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: English is not my native language. Not really religious alerts, but caveat. You’ve been warned. The fic doesn't mess with religion, but be forewarned. Made for SnapeFest2012, Before the World Ends! If the plot seems known, don't fret. It is known. It was just redesigned.
> 
> Thank yous: People at TheFanficAsylum at YahooGroups. Trekkers make my day.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Severus Snape and the whole gang belong to JK Rowling, Warner Brothers and their lawyers. Anything you don’t recognize is mine, from raelians, from other tribes or from the Bible.

Harry woke up startled, wand at the ready.

“Who are you, and how did you get in?”

There were two persons he had never met before, who certainly should not be at Hogwarts. Especially at that particular time.

Harry was exhausted. He had just conquered Lord Voldemort a few hours before. Kreacher had brought him a sandwich and some juice, and he had planned to sleep until the next day – or night. The sun was high in the sky, and it was strange, for Harry rarely saw his dorm at the Gryffindor Tower this time of day.

But now there was this strange couple in his room, and Harry could feel the adrenaline pumping on his veins.

“There is no need for that, child,” said the tall man, and his voice was as pleasant as a soft violin on a warm day. “I am deeply sorry to disturb your rest, but we need urgent information about the one you call Severus Snape”.

“Oh,” said Harry, calming down. “I am so sorry. Did you know him?”

“We are his… family. You can call me Elohim”.

“I didn’t know Professor Snape had living relatives. My condolences on your loss.”

“Spare me your platitudes. I heard you were the last one to see him. Is that true?”

“Yes, I was with him in his last moments.” Then it occurred to the teen that they could be unaware Snape was dead. “You do know that he is…?”

The woman suppressed a sob before he was finished. The man, Elohim, spared her a concerned glance and turned back to the young man, “Did he give you any message?”

“Yes, of course.” Harry picked up the little flask of memories and showed them. “Here they are. I was going to keep them, but-”

“That is not what I am talking about!” snapped the man. ‘You know what I want.”

“Sorry, sir. I’m afraid I don’t quite follow you.”

The tall man took a deep breath and said “Young man, I respectfully request permission to read your mind. I am sure it holds the information I am seeking.”

Later, Harry could not say why, but he never thought about denying that request. “Sure.”

Of course he expected to see the man take out his wand and apply Legilimens, but it never happened. Instead, the boy who had just defeated Voldemort felt an irresistible urge to look at the man and recall every single detail he could about Snape’s demise at the Shrieking Shack. A few moments later, he no longer felt the urge. Elohim, however, looked severely distraught. He sat on the bed, his voice a mere whisper.

“This can’t be… It is impossible…”

Harry felt so bad for the man. “I’m sorry, but he was beyond help. He died a hero.”

“Please, young man, I must beg your patience. I came a long way in order to take him back home, and now… this. Could you please tell me exactly what happened?”

“I thought you looked into my mind.”

“I need to know if you touched him. If he looked into your eyes in his… final moments.”

The woman squeaked, “Final moments?”

“Please, Apsara. Let the boy speak.”

Harry obeyed, recalling all those pungent moments at the Shrieking Shack. Mr. Elohim pointed some questions, very interested in picturing exactly what transpired in those terrible moments.

“Did you look him in the eye?”

“Yes. He asked me to look at him.”

“And did he touch you?”

“He pulled me by my collar to get close to my eyes.”

“So he didn’t touch you? No skin contact?”

“No, sir.”

“So, other than those memories that poured out of him, he didn’t give you any more information. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

Elohim practically deflated. Harry saw that it was as if Elohim’s last hopes had been shattered by each and every one of Harry’s answers.

“Then he is dead. Gone… Forever…”

The woman wailed and wept. For a few minutes, Harry didn’t know what to do. He wished Snape wasn’t dead, that these people could see their relative and…

He stopped, clarity suddenly coming to him, his senses sharpened.

Wait. Who _were_ these people again? Relatives? Snape did not have any family.

What was going on there?

Before he could question them, Elohim stood up, and there was a fierce air about him. Harry thought better than to defy such a man.

“Stop it, Apsara,” he barked. “This is not the end of it. That man, Dumbledore. Where is he, boy? Answer me!”

“He died, Mr. Elohim,” said Harry gently. “It happened last year, during the fight against Voldemort. Didn’t you know about that? Where did you say you came from?”

“I didn’t say. But I see you can talk to his portrait. Take me to him!”

The woman said, mournfully, “Please, beloved, let it go. Let’s just get out of this place. Our boy is lost. We can’t bring him home.”

“This is absurd!” said Elohim, heated. “We shall not accept this! This offends all of our people!”

“My love, please,” insisted the woman. “Please. It’s too painful.”

“Take me to Dumbledore,” ordered the man once more.

Harry lost his patience. “Excuse me, sir. But it’s late. I have just vanquished a Dark Lord, and I’m not going anywhere until I know exactly who you are and how you got into Hogwarts.”

Apsara, the woman, took Harry’s hands and looked at him. Her beautiful face streamed with tears, and she whispered, “Please, young man. Help us. I have just lost my son forever.”

Amazing that Harry felt he could not argue. And he took them to Dumbledore’s office.


	2. Chapter 2

“Mr. Potter!” McGonagall’s voice had risen due to her sheer amazement. She took one look at her pupil and his two companions.

“They would like to talk to Professor Dumbledore,” explained Harry. “His portrait, I mean. It’s about Professor Snape. They’re his… family.”

McGonagall’s eyes went wide, but before she could open her mouth, Elohim pointed a finger at the portrait right above her head.

“You! Dumbledore! I demand an explanation!” he barked angrily.

Harry was appalled to see that his old headmaster, the almighty Albus Dumbledore, looked vexed at Elohim.

“I am very sorry, my friend. But there was nothing I could do to save him.”

“You asked me to help you and this is what I get! You had my son killed! All that he was! All that he could be! Everything is gone, forever!”

McGonagall looked at Harry, who merely shrugged. He was not sure he understood what was going on.

“We wanted to take his essence home, his _midrash_. But he was alone when he died. No one touched him. Now we cannot reunite him with his people-his _real_ people.”

“Elohim, I am so sorry,” repeated the old wizard. “Your boy was brave beyond any measure. He saved us all. I wished so hard he could have saved himself.”

McGonagall was appalled. “Severus Snape? A traitor, a coward!”

Harry had to step forward. “We were wrong, Professor. He was a spy for our side.”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Potter,” she insisted. “You weren’t here during the school year. You didn’t see his performance as Headmaster. He was a shame to Hogwarts!”

“He did the best he could under the circumstances,” countered Dumbledore. “Perhaps you should consider what would have happened if one of the Carrows took care of the school?”

“Still-“

She was interrupted by the thunderous voice of Elohim.

“Nothing could bore me more than your human petty quarrels. I expect reparation. I demand it, as a matter of fact.”

Apsara was wringing her hands, silent tears falling from her face. She made a quiet noise, one that broke Harry’s heart.

“You have three days,” he admonished. “I will appear in full attire before your authorities to collect reparation. You have been warned.”

There was a flash of light and the strangers were gone. Harry looked at Professor McGonagall and they both turned to see Dumbledore fall into his chair before saying. “We have no time to waste. Please, Minerva, call the Acting Minister at once. Who is he?”

“That would be Kingsley Shacklebolt,” she said.

“Good,” nodded Dumbledore. “At least this one has a good head between his shoulders. There is much to do.”

“But what is this all about?”

“Bear with me just a bit more, Minerva. Please, I’d rather explain it all just once. And perhaps Harry could use a little rest.”

There was no way Harry could sleep right now and he said so. So they all called an emergency meeting at Hogwarts.

Kingsley Shacklebolt tried to humor the Headmistress, but he did not understand why he had to leave the Ministry when he was trying to form an emergency cabinet after Voldemort’s demise, which rendered half the staff in the entire Ministry liable to a stint in Azkaban. It took a while until Dumbledore could explain that they had visitors.

Visitors he had never expected.

“Who are these people?” asked McGonagall. “Are they really Severus’ parents?”

“You could say that,” was Dumbledore’s answer.

“What does it mean? Was he adopted by Eileen Prince and her husband?”

“You could also say that” said Dumbledore gravely. “The truth is that they think Severus’ demise is my fault, and they may be right on that account. After all, Severus was one of them. He was Elohim, but I think nobody knew that.”

Harry was surprised. “I thought Elohim was that man’s name.”

“Actually, Harry,” corrected Dumbledore, “Elohim is the name the humans gave to his ancient race. They are old, older than mankind, and kept much to themselves. On rare occasions they would intervene with humans. They were viewed as divine intervention, as a matter of fact. The noun Elohim can be translated as angels.”

There was surprise all over the room. “A-angels?”

“They are to mankind much farther than Muggles are to wizards. They are able to commune with nature on a level of which we can only dream. Of course, being here since the dawn of mankind, they were mistaken for supernatural beings. Once they came to us often, but it’s been awhile since they mingled with humans. Anyhow, I was able to contact one of them, and that was Elohim. Voldemort was winning, our situation was dire. He promised me help. He said he would send his own son to help. Severus was born to a witch and a Muggle, so that we could remember that humankind had both wizards and Muggles. Unfortunately, things did not turn so well for him.”

McGonagall was appalled. “This is absurd. Severus was no magical creature.”

“Elohim told me Severus’ heritage would only appear in the end, when his mission was over. His race is long lived and they are very tough to die. Even if he let go of his human body, he would not be lost, or so said Elohim. But I don’t know what has happened, why this didn’t come true. I guess I lost track of Severus and thought of him as fully human.”

“But sir,” said Harry, “can we be sure that Professor Snape didn’t do what they thought he could do? He was a very resourceful man. How can we know he didn’t do whatever it is they think he should have done?”

Dumbledore smiled sadly at him. “I know what you mean, Harry. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s probable. Severus didn’t even know who his real parents were. Elohim was sure that things would turn out a differently than they did.”

“And now he demands reparation. What does that mean, exactly?” was Shackelbolt’s question.

“I can’t begin to imagine,” confessed Dumbledore. “I believe it is time to convene the Wizengamot to a full session. Elohim gave us three days before he appears in full attire. I believe the last time such a thing happened; things went bad for the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.”

There was silence.


	3. Chapter 3

The next three days were tense, to say the least, thought Harry. He went to funerals. There had been a lot of controversy concerning Severus Snape. Prompted by the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort, the Wizengamot and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement decided that Snape was, indeed, a war hero, worthy of the Order of Merlin, Second Class, _post-mortem_. His body, still in the care of Madam Pomfrey, would be released to his relatives when they came back, probably at the next Wizengamot session, thought Harry, because that was the place they were expected.

The only thing was that said Wizengamot session would have to be held in secrecy, because no one knew about the Elohim. Dumbledore thought it best to keep it that way. Shacklebolt suggested he get a second portrait painted so that Dumbledore could attend the session, too. As much as the old Headmaster would like that, portrait magic had its own special rules. Dumbledore could not attend.

They would have to deal with the mystery of the Elohim themselves. They were, indeed, a mystery, thought Harry. He expected the Elohim would arrive in pomp and circumstance, maybe even eliciting shivers from whoever laid eyes on them.

They didn’t frustrate any of the expectations.

It was a solemn session in Wizarding Court. All witches and wizards were dressed in burgundy robes and funny little hats, acting as if they were some sort of religious sect, thought Harry, in emotional detachment. He was tired of ceremonies. He had been to no less than five funerals, saying good-bye to dear friends and a sort of informal godfather; that was Remus Lupin. He was determined to be a father to little Teddy, even though his grandmother would raise him.

And now there was another death Harry would have to acknowledge. If anyone told him a year ago about Snape’s death, he would have been dancing around in joy, for Dumbledore’s murderer would get what he deserved. Now Harry was sad, as if Snape had been a good friend. He was in awe at Snape’s bravery, courage and loyalty to his mother, and to a love that was never meant to be.

Harry wished he had had time to talk to Snape at least once more. Just to tell Snape that he had been wrong, that he had misjudged him. It would be nice if Harry could sit down with Snape and see how he could be without all the pressure of Voldemort’s ugly presence. For a moment, Harry wondered if they could talk about his mom, or even become civil to each other.

Harry was also very curious about the alleged parents, but he guessed Snape would not know anything about them. Had he known that, his memories would probably have shown it.

But all these thoughts fled his mind when Elohim made his entrance. Because that was an entrance worthy of a king or a rock star, thought Harry.

Elohim was dressed in a sheer white robe, with golden embroidery, a heavy white cloak with feathers on the trim. In his right hand he had a sword that looked like pure flame. In his left hand there was a spear from which came a dazzling light, as if it were made of fire. The light surrounding him was not natural, at least to the witches and wizards who were enchanted by the vision that was Severus’ father.

Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as Elohim walked through the path to the center of the room. The young man had just conquered Lord Voldemort, yet he was in awe at Elohim’s sheer presence. The man was glowing, for Merlin. There was no sign of the woman who had appeared with him at Hogwarts.

The visitor stopped in front of the whole Wizengamot, and Harry felt as if there were an air of royalty in the room. It was as if a foreign sovereign was paying an official visit to a body of Parliament.

“Greetings to all noble wizards and witches. I am Elohim. Which of you is the one whom I shall address?”

“It is I. I am Kingsley Shacklebolt, Acting Minister of Magic. We welcome you, Elohim.”

“I come before you, in full gear, weapons at charge, in order to offer you my friendship and my allegiance. It is the way of my people. We are friends, but my plea is of reparation.”

“Tell us your case, Elohim.”

“I ask for no interruptions before my case is done. Then we can commence the debate. Is that acceptable?”

“Certainly.”


	4. Chapter 4

The man in regal white robes and golden embroidery laid down his weapons and began pacing in front of the audience. Witches and wizards held their breaths. Harry could see it.

“Very well. I shall endeavor to impart for you the importance of my claim. Many of you may have heard the reason I am here. You may be under the impression that I am here to complain about the demise of my son, the one you call Severus Snape. This is WRONG.

“I am here not to complain about his death, because we do, as your poet say, shuffle off this mortal coil, same as you. But you have to understand my claim.

“Your people call us Elohim. I chose this name for myself because you would not be able to pronounce my real name. We are an old race, much older than wizards. Your people have regarded mine as supernatural beings. That is not true. It is just that our relationship to nature is much more profound than yours. Because of these differences, in the infancy of your race, you have called us angels, messengers of God. I have to admit that having _these_ on our backs does not help.”

It was at that time that Harry widened his eyes at the magnificent vision before him. Elohim spread his wings, and their span were almost the entire diameter of the round room of the Wizengamot. The audience was stunned. Harry had the impression that the whole room turned brighter, if that was possible. There was murmuring and hushed admiration among the wizards, but Elohim paid no heed.

“There was also an incident, a fairly long time ago, when two of my brothers, in a fit of arrogance, destroyed two of your cities. I believed they were called Sodom and Gomorrah. I bring their most sincere apologies for their haste in judging your race. They have learned to behave better since then. At least the one you call Gabriel has, if it brings you comfort.”

There were awkward clearings of throats all around, and plenty of squirming in seats. Harry hadn’t stopped gawking at the man. Elohim recoiled his wings before continuing.

“I understand that since you are only human you tend to describe my race as magical creatures. This is not right, but I suppose this is not entirely wrong, from your point of view. For I am about to explain to you some of the differences between our peoples.

“A major difference is that our nature is to help other peoples. Not only help, but also to protect them. Throughout human history, we have been amongst you, sometimes unknown, other time not so subtly concealed, trying to lift your spirits or to raise your values towards higher goals. We have become especially concerned during destructive periods, such as wars and dark times in general.

“So, we were already aware that the situation with the so-called Lord Voldemort was worsening when one of your people came to us. Albus Dumbledore was received as a dear friend, for we know the hearts of men, and his heart was pure. We heard of his passing with great sorrow and we grieve with you his loss, maybe more than you. He came to us asking for help. Evil and darkness seemed to be everywhere, and times were bleaker than ever. His plea was just, so we acquiesced.

“I consulted my peers and my own mate. We agreed to bring our own son to help Dumbledore. It is not unheard of for Elohim being born as humans in times of great need. Their presence is to restore balance to the worlds they adopt. Our son, as you knew him, is the one you call Severus Snape. And then comes another difference between our peoples.

“We are extremely long-lived compared to humans. But we die, as does every living being in nature. This is a reality we cannot escape, much as you. Even then, there are differences.

“Since it is our nature to be much more attuned to nature itself, we are much more attuned to each other as well. That does not constitute a hive mentality, just a much closer awareness of our families and community. It is important that you understand we are individuals. We are born, we grow, we live, we mate and we die, much as you. But death does not necessarily mean our end.

“That is where a major difference stands. For every Elohim carries his _midrash,_ which you may translate or relate as his essence, his vital energy, his soul, if you wish. Actually, in time, you will learn that every living being in nature has his own _midrash._ It is very hard to describe it properly. It is not physical, _per se_ , yet it has physical properties. Suffice it to say that _midrash_ can be stored in special places and united with the _midrash_ of other individuals. If not properly taken care of, the _midrash_ may be lost with the individual death of his holder. In the moment of his death, an Elohim usually passes his _midrash_ to a mate, a brother or relative, even a close friend. We believe that the _midrash_ , although not sentient, would refuse to be hosted in a person in whom the original holder does not trust. The carrier then takes it to the special place where it will be melded with _midrash_ es of all other Elohim who have passed away. In this fashion, we can preserve the knowledge, energy and presence of every individual in our race, even though he has passed away. So, even though our comrade is dead, he lives on in us, thanks to his _midrash._

At this point, Harry was so moved that he thought he could cry. Many of the others looked like that as well. Even Elohim himself looked older, sadder.

“We felt when the one you call Severus Snape was nearing his death. We came, unseen, and watched the events unfold. We did not interfere, for his mission was completed. And he had a trusted person with him: a boy he was sworn to defend, a boy for whom he laid down his own life to protect. There was no doubt that he had passed his _midrash_ to the child. Unfortunately, however, I myself checked the boy and felt no presence of Severus Snape in him. His _midrash_ was not there.”

Harry felt many of the people assembled looking at him. They knew that he was the boy to whom Elohim was referring. He felt heat rising up his cheeks and his heart began to race a bit. There was a light dizziness threatening his head.

Elohim’s next words distracted him. “And now we come to this. All of Elohim people have lost the essence and energy that was the one you call Severus Snape. His presence is denied to us. His thoughts, his heritage, his living mind. This is all lost. Gone forever. I am not sure you humans can even begin to contemplate the loss our people feel at this point. My mate Apsara could not come to this noble meeting, too devastated was she to acquire the body we need when dealing with humans.

“So I want your answer, my friends, to my plea. I ask you not as a father, but as a representative of the whole of the Elohim people: how could you ever offer us reparation? How could ever you make up for that which we have lost forever?”

Silence was eloquent at this point. The drop of a pin could have been heard, thought Harry, who was feeling strange. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Maybe it was the dizziness getting stronger, or his heart racing even more.

Elohim chose that moment to point at him. “I could demand the boy’s life, for instance. Yes, I mean Harry Potter himself. He is your Saviour, and he helped my son to accomplish the defeat of the Dark One. One life for another, there used to be a law such as this in your world.”

Chaos ensued. Loud voices made Harry cringe, not only in fear, but also in pain, for he was becoming seriously ill. It was as if his head was going to split in two, and foreign thoughts were forcing themselves upon his head. There was no pain from his scar, but he couldn’t help thinking it was very similar to what it had felt like when Voldemort was alive. He could barely hear the shouts and screaming above the loud roar in his head.

In seconds, though, Harry Potter could think of nothing but pain and more pain. It was escalating to the point where he was literally losing his mind. There was someone shouting, and if Harry could have paid attention, he would have realized it was himself. The commotion first attributed to Elohim’s words was transferred to The Saviour of the Wizarding World. Harry, however, did not pay attention. He slid to the floor, unconscious.

o0o o0o o0o

It was not likely for Kingsley Shacklebolt to lose control of a room. But in this case, one should realize it was not really an ordinary case of lack of command.

Shacklebolt considered the facts before him. The plaintiff was not even finished and had just insinuated he might take The Boy Who Lived To Conquer Voldemort as reparation for the loss of Severus Snape, when said Boy Who Lived apparently had a sort of breakdown and fainted. Said plaintiff then began to chant something by his side, and when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, from the door came none other than another hero against Lord Voldemort.

Neville Longbottom strode unstopped in the room and announced, “Snape lives! And he’s got _wings_!”

That, thought the Minister grimly, was when all hell broke loose.


	5. Chapter 5

The thing Poppy Pomfrey loathed most was turbulence. The hospital wing she ran should be a sanctuary of tranquility, calmness and peace for her patients.

Poppy Pomfrey was in for a treat.

First, it was that boy, Longbottom. He came in quietly, too shy for such a great hero for his actions during the battle of Hogwarts. She was busy trying to organize potions, balms and some other medicines Horace Slughorn had left a few hours ago.

“Mr. Longobttom,” she greeted. “Do you require medical assistance?”

“No, Madam. I came to help.”

“The hospital wing has no more grave cases, as Hogwarts is not fit for recovery right now. Only Professor Firenze needs to be removed, and St. Mungo’s is sending specialists in magical creatures.”

“Can’t the centaurs take care of him?”

“He has been banished from the herd. They would only let him die.”

“After all he did?”

She shrugged. “It’s their way, Mr. Longbottom. Who are we to judge?”

“Anyway, I thought I’d stop by and see if there’s anything I could do.”

“I am preparing some of our dear fallen heroes for their funerals.” She gestured to another portion of the hospital wing. “I can’t ask for your help with that. Don’t fret, young man. I’m sure your help will be very welcomed somewhere else in the castle.”

“Yes, Madam.” He turned to go, but then changed his mind. “Madam Pomfrey, do you think school will reopen on September?”

Madam Pomfrey sighed, her heart heavier than she would like to admit. She stopped what she was doing and turned to the young man who had killed You-Know-Who’s snake. “I certainly hope so, Mr. Longbottom.”

But Neville was not looking at her. Instead, his attention was focused on the area where she had the few bodies of the fallen heroes. Turning her head, she saw the reason for his amazement: there was light coming from over there.

“What in the blazes…”

Being a practical woman with a no-nonsense approach to things, she rushed over, Longbottom hot on her heels. What they saw was even more formidable than either could imagine.

One of the bodies was shrouded in light, so bright that they could barely keep their eyes open. It was beautiful beyond words and, at the same time, terrifying.

“What is it?” asked the boy in a quiet voice. “What is going on?”

“Sometimes when the magic leaves a body, there are physical effects, some quite spectacular. But I have never seen anything like this before.”

“Shouldn’t we call somebody? Professor McGonagall, perhaps?”

“This should last only a few more seconds.”

The words had barely left her lips when a surge of an even brighter light dazzled them both, and a silent explosion threw both of them backwards. Poppy sat on the floor, vexed after having fallen on her bottom, trying to catch her breath.

“Are you all right, Madam Pomfrey?”

“Yes, lad, just fine. I think…”

She never quite completed her thought. For something caught her eye. It was a feather, a single black feather floating on the air, right in front of her. She couldn’t tell why the feather was so intriguing.

But everything became much more interesting when she raised her eyes and saw black wings sprouting from Severus Snape’s dead body. Except that he wasn’t dead. Not if the rise and fall of his chest was any indication.

Longbottom made a quiet sound, actually a squeak of horror, awe and disbelief. Poppy didn’t know where she found voice to ask the boy.

“Mr. Longbottom, I believe now would be a perfect time for you to go get Headmistress McGonagall.”

Longbottom ran out of the hospital wing, and Poppy Pomfrey contemplated what was happening.

What they didn’t know was that at that time Harry Potter was down at the floor of the Wizengamot, screaming in terrible pain.

And that was just the beginning of the commotion inside the hospital wing.

A man Apparated inside her infirmary, and he had someone in his arms. Madame Pomfrey instantly became her usual businesslike self, directing the man clad in white.

“What happened?” asked Pomfrey. “Who are you?”

“The young man fell,” answered the stranger. “I can help him, but he needs to be near my son.”

“Your son?”

“The one you call Severus Snape.”

Oh, dear. Things were just getting stranger and stranger, weren’t they? But Madam Pomfrey had no time to be curious. She had a patient, for Merlin’s sake.

“Bring him over, by all means.”

Poppy didn’t expect to find out that the injured one was none other than the Boy Who Lived himself. She whipped out her wand to cast a diagnostic. The man gently pushed her wand away from the young man.

“There is no need for that. All is well. I thank you for your concern.”

“It’s more than my concern, sir. It’s my job. Can you tell me what happened?”

“They are both in pain.” His voice was quite heavy with emotion. “For neither can be whole if one has the other’s soul.”

“Do you know what is wrong with them?”

“Indeed, I do.”

“So you can treat them?”

“Alas, this I cannot do. I shall have my mate right here, for she is the healing one of the family. Kind madam, would you please take care of both these boys while I go fetch her?”

“Sir, I have been doing this since they were both little boys!” She extended her hand. “Poppy Pomfrey is my name.”

The stranger smiled, and it seemed to light up the entire wing. “Call me Elohim. That one you call Severus is my son.”

“I am sure there is a good story there, Mr. Elohim, but I recommend you bring your healer here right away. I don’t like the way Mr. Potter’s skin is turning grey.”

“Thank you so much, Madam Pomfrey, good woman. I will return shortly.”

And he disapparated, baffling Madam Pomfrey once more. Who was that man who could Apparate and Dispparate inside Hogwarts?

Within minutes, more commotion was to be seen. Acting Minister Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall ran into the hospital wing, Mr. Longbottom in tow.

“Is is true?” asked Professor McGonagall. “Severus lives?”

“Yes, it is. And he has… changed.”

“So I’ve heard. But how?”

“I suppose that the only one able to answer your question, Headmistress, is our visitor.”

The minister looked around. “Where is he?”

“He went out to fetch a healer. He only said that Professor Snape and Mr. Potter are both in pain. I am sorry, Minerva. This situation is way beyond my knowledge of healing. We will have to wait for the healer our visitor intended to bring.”

“There is no way we can keep this a secret anymore.”

It wasn’t more than 30 seconds after Kingsley said that, when Neville went to check a loud noise outside the hospital wing. “Reporters!”

“I will deal with them,” said Kingsley, getting out of the infirmary. “Just keep me posted, please.”


	6. Chapter 6

Against her own better judgment, Madam Pomfrey examined Severus Snape, trying to overcome the sight of the two magnificent wings upon which he lay. His neck had no scars, no sign whatsoever of the horrible wounds made by You-Know-Who’s hideous pet.

Poppy noticed Snape wasn't exactly changed, but he did look a little younger. And the wings looked silky, lustrous as his black hair. His vitals were fine, so she turned to young Mr. Potter.

Surprisingly, the school's nurse found the young man's vital signs as strong as the former Headmaster's. His appearance, though, was something else. His skin was grey and looked like a strange, sickly kind of wax. The Savior of the Wizarding World looked older: fine lines darkened the area around his eyes. Although his breathing was shallow, he didn't seem to be in immediate danger.

"How are they?" asked McGonagall.

"Better than I expected. Now can anyone tell me how the Headmaster has come to be alive and… er, _winged_?"

"Yes," Neville piped in. "I was wondering about that myself."

Professor McGonagall summarized what she knew about the whole affair. Poppy could hardly believe her words. It was a second shock for the seasoned nurse.

First, she had discovered that the hated Headmaster, a murderer and a known Death Eater, was in fact a spy on Dumbledore’s orders. Posthumously Snape had been awarded an Order of Merlin, 2nd Class, because he had given his life in order to help Harry in his mission.

It had been hard for the seasoned nurse to accept that Severus Snape was now hailed as a hero. After a whole year of his reign of terror, seeing detention become a festival of curses, hexes and jinxes, Pomfrey could hardly believe Snape hadn’t condoned it all. However, she grudgingly agreed with Minerva as she argued that, had Snape done something to stop the cruelty, he would have been sacked as Headmaster and it was very probable that the job would have fallen to the Carrows, in which case the Unforgivables would have become standard punishment.

Still, it was hard for Pomfrey to forget all those poor students. Many times her hospital wing was overflowing with pupils. She did her best to alleviate bruises, wounds and injuries. However, the nurse had serious concerns about the psychological pain and mental scars that would follow many of them for years to come.

“That is amazing,” said Neville. “It seems that literally just about everything happens to Harry. And why is he sick?”

“I am not sure,” said Pomfrey. “That man said he’d bring help.”

“Just in time,” observed Neville. “Harry looks about ready to wake.”

It was true. Minerva ran to the side of the bed, and observed as the young man’s eyes fluttered. He looked around, a bit lost. But before Minerva could greet him, he startled and rose to sit up, his eyes wide and black.

“It is all right,” said Minerva. “You are fine now.”

“The school… Out of danger?” His voice was a bit too deep.

“You saved the school, Harry. You saved us all.”

That didn’t reassure him. “And the Dark Lord?”

“You vanquished him. Don’t you remember?”

He opened his mouth to answer, still panting, anguished, when a soft pink light entered the room. From behind her back, Minerva heard a soothing voice of a woman. “Oh, boy, it’s too soon for you to be up. You can rest now, son. Please lay back.”

Minerva could hardly believe as Apsara entered the room, shrouded in the soft light, now turning bluish or green. Her steps were so soft she looked as if she was gliding above the floor. The light around her also involved Harry and Severus.

The young man looked at the newcomer with an odd expression, and Minerva could have sworn that his eyes changed color, from black to his usual brilliant green. In a few moments, he quietly laid down and fell asleep again.

Apsara’s light kept bathing the three of them, and she was humming quietly, a haunting melody that was not exactly a religious hymn, but more like that mysterious enchantment Severus used to hear young Draco Malfoy sing, who had been hit by that nasty Sectumsempra.

Elohim chose that moment to come inside the room. His voice was quiet. “It should not be long. Apsara is excellent at healing. The young man will be all right. He needs plenty of rest.”

The others chose not to speak. Apsara’s gentle light and soft chanting was soothing even to those who were not directly involved. In only a few minutes, Harry was fast asleep again, his features peaceful.

Apsara turned to the group, a gentle smile. “He will be fine. I’m sorry to say he won’t be awake soon, but he’s in a deep healing trance now. It will do him good. In the meantime, there’s much to do before they are both ready to go.”

“Go?” repeated McGonagall. “Go where?”

Gently, Apsara explained, “The one you call Severus Snape is in great pain, and he also lacks his essence. The boy you call Harry holds both their essences in his body, and it stresses him very much. He may be in grave danger to sustain both _midrashes_ for much longer. Severus must be reunited with his essence lest he fades and withers. Harry must let go of Severus’s _midrash_ lest he stays in a state of unbalance that might harm him greatly. ‘Tis a task much too great for me alone. We must take them home, where they will receive excellent care, and give them both peace of mind. Until then, there is much to be done.”

“But he died,” exclaimed McGonagall. “Didn’t he?”

“Indeed, he did,” confirmed Elohim. “But Apsara and I were discussing what happened and we believe the only possible explanation is that Severus had to die so that his Elohim heritage could emerge. His magic had to leave his body totally so his _midrash_ could awake in young Harry’s mind. And when it did, it was too much for the poor boy. He was not fit to keep the _midrash_ and his own essence.”

Neville was stunned. “You are saying that Harry really has Professor Snape’s rash thing in his head?”

“Yes,” confirmed Apsara. “That must have been the reason he collapsed. And when he awoke right now, a few minutes ago, it was not his essence speaking but Severus’ essence”

“I thought I recognized the voice!” exclaimed McGonagall, amazed.

“What do we do now? Can we help?” offered Neville.

Apsara smiled at him, so sweet she looked like an angel. “You, Neville, of pure and brave heart, can be of great help indeed. Our good friend Kingsley is trying to explain to the reporters what happened, but it seems the people to whom he is talking won’t believe him. But if _you_ talk to them, they will listen. Unfortunately, it is not wise to tell them the whole truth. Since it is the Dark One’s fault that Severus had to die, we can say that Harry was caught by an unknown curse of delayed action cast by the one known as Lord Voldemort. Said curse, old and obscure, has proven beyond the wonderful skills of Madam Pomfrey, so a specialist is being Flooed directly to Hogwarts. Nobody thinks young Harry is in danger, but he hasn’t woken up yet. Essentially, that is what Kingsley told them, so they will have to apologize to our dear Minister. Are you willing to help us in doing so, Neville?”

“Of course,” said Neville. “I will talk to them right away, if that is OK.”

“Go, my boy, go.” Apsara’s smile was contagious and comforting.

Pomfrey waited until Longbottom was gone to ask, “So young Mr. Potter is really going to be all right?”

“Actually, he should be, but there is no guarantee. Not for him, not for Severus. We trust the Hierophant’s efforts to do her best.”

Pomfrey and Minerva were a bit alarmed, but Elohim calmed them down, “There is no reason to believe that the procedure won’t be successful. It’s just that it has not been done in living memory – _our_ living memory, which is much before the infancy of mankind.”

“Then they should not do it! If there’s no guarantee…”

“If they don’t do it, then Severus will die, and Harry will lose his mind,” said Apsara quietly. “They don’t have a choice, I’m afraid. As Severus’ mother, I have to try. I am sure you understand.”

Both women did. Yet they still could not feel worried for both of them.

“Anything we can do to help?”

Apsara smiled at Minerva. “Actually, there is. Let’s talk about this little trip we’ll be taking. Who would you recommend to accompany Harry?”


	7. Chapter 7

Neville came back into the room, looking anxious. “They went mad! The reporters want all sort of information. I don’t know what to tell them!”

Apsara calmed him down with her smile and gentle eyes. “You have done great, Neville. There’s no need to tell them anything else, except that Harry will not be available for some time.”

“He will be all right, won’t he?”

“Of course, dear. But we need to take him to our home, and he might appreciate having a friend around.”

Elohim sounded excited. “What an excellent idea. Harry might really appreciate a friendly face. Any ideas on who could go with us?”

Neville looked around and said, “Normally, that would be Ron and Hermione. But she is visiting Australia right now bringing her parents back. And Ron and his family are grieving the loss of Fred. I don’t think it’s a good time for them right now. I would like to go, if Harry needs me.”

Apsara touched his arm, moved. “Such a brave boy. Would you feel sad if I said you’d help Harry much more by staying here and helping Kingsley deal with the reporters?”

“Well… Yes. But I will do whatever you need me.”

“I appreciate your generosity, Neville Longbottom.”

Minerva asked, “Who do you think should accompany you in your journey? A Weasley, perhaps?”

“No, I believe the Weasleys have much on their minds right now. We understand the loss of life, the pain of war. No, I was thinking more in the lines of the Malfoy family.”

The silence was so great that even their collective breaths were held. Then it was McGonagall who exploded.

“Malfoy? Preposterous! Do you know who they are? They supported You-Know-Who! No, they did more than that! They _housed_ him as their honored guest, opened their own home to that man!”

Apsara said gently, “I understand the whole family still has a case to present to the Wizengamot.”

Minerva wasn’t done. “Not only that. Lucius Malfoy personally hates Potter. He tried to kill the boy in several occasions. To let him near the boy is to give him opportunity to do You-Know-Who’s job and finish him off!”

Apsara took one look at Elohim. He asked, “So you don’t think it’s wise to bring Malfoy?”

“Absolutely not.”

Apsara sighed and exchanged another look with Elohim. “Perhaps, then, we should just talk to him.”

Elohim insisted to his wife, his face hard. “We cannot let him go… unscathed.”

McGonagall was about to pursue the subject, but then she realized they were in their own dialogue. Pomfrey had come to the same conclusion.

Apsara said. “Perhaps our friend Kingsley might shed some light on the matter. I suppose he is back at work, being such an important man.”

Neville confirmed, “Yes, Madam.”

Elohim was not satisfied. “That settles it. I shall talk to Malfoy myself.”

Apsara gently said, “Beloved, please. Let’s wait for a while. I have to look at the boys. Why don’t we all calm down?”

An idea struck McGonagall. “Perhaps some refreshments are in order. I will ask the elves to bring us something. Do you have any dietary restrictions I should know?”

Apsara said, “You are most kind. Since we are visitors, it would hardly be appropriate to impose on you.”

“Nonsense,” said the Headmistress. “You are our honored guests. I understand our food and drink may do you harm. I would be devastated if something inadvertently harmed you.”

Elohim bowed, “Madam is wise, for it is true. In your world we do require sustenance. But you should not worry much. We brought some supplements to give us nutrition, mixed with linseed, as well as other food-medicine for both Severus and Harry. Of course, you are welcome to partake with us.”

McGonagall smiled. “That should be interesting.”

o0o o0o o0o

“The way we see it,” explained Apsara, “food and medicine are the same. I believe Muggles are beginning to embrace this concept, too. As you wizards did a long time ago with chocolate.”

“I wished we had more food like that,” confessed Pomfrey. “It would help my job immensely.”

“As a fellow healer, Apsara can relate to that.”

Neville asked for the second time, “And what is this again?”

“ _Bakolti_. I’m glad you enjoyed it. We tend to use food that can comfort us both emotionally and spiritually. It goes rather well with your linseed.”

McGonagall said, “It’s very peculiar in taste.”

“Like your pumpkin juice,” compared Elohim. “But I will stick to _mashamad_ for the time being, though. No offense.”

They all laughed, and a soft chime brought McGonagall’s attention. “It’s the wards.”

Apsara said in anguished tone, “I sense great distress from a grieved mother coming. Oh, beloved. I will let her come through.”

“Who?”

McGonagall had hardly asked her question when Molly Weasley burst in the hospital wing. She surveyed the room and spotted Madame Pomfrey and the Headmistress. “Thank goodness I arrived in time. I just heard about Harry!”

McGonagall rose and tried to calm her down, “Everything is just fine, Molly.”

“Fine? _Fine_?” she shrieked. “I heard Harry has been hit by You-Know-Who’s delayed curse and now he’s fighting for his life, and Merlin knows I cannot lose another child right now. Please, let this not be true.”

Apsara gently held the matron. “Come, dear Molly. Let me take you to Harry, so you can see him with your own eyes.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Molly, dabbing her tears. “Oh, dear, after Freddie, I can’t even…”

Molly’s words died in her lips when she took one look at Harry and one look at Severus. Then she looked at Severus again.

Then she fainted.


	8. Chapter 8

It was not without trepidation that the family arrived at Hogwarts. The apprehension was palpable, but their exterior was as cool and composed as ever. However, the fact that the call came from the Acting Minister of Magic himself was not reassuring.

Shacklebolt was waiting for them by the fireplace when they Flooed in. “Welcome. I am glad you could make it in such short time.”

It was _too_ gentle, assessed Lucius Malfoy. Had they been called for a final sentence that would throw all them into Azkaban, they’d have been taken by Aurors, wouldn’t they? No, it was something else entirely. He kept his eyes looking straight at the Minister, so he wouldn’t notice the quiet sigh of relief from his lips.

“It is an honor, Minister,” he lied in a social manner only well-bred people could. “But we still don’t understand…”

“I am sorry for all the secrecy, Mr. Malfoy, but you will soon see the need for that. Please follow me.”

He had no Aurors with him, so this definitely was not an arrest. Lucius followed the man, his long mane of white hair flowing in synch with his steps. Since the Dark Lord had gone, his hair had returned to its former splendor. Maybe it had been the pestilence that his former Lord aspersed into the air. It had taken the elves at least a whole day to get the Manor rid of the malignancy and sheer evil.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lucius observed Draco getting tense and Narcissa trying to hide her nervousness. Their elegant robes could not hide so much anguish. All three were feeling uneasy, yet deeply curious. Still, there was a question: What was this all about?

They were about to go inside what appeared to be the hospital wing, if the scent of aseptic materials were any indication. As they reached the door, Shacklebolt turned and warned, “What you are about to see is extremely classified. You have, of course, the option not to go in there. But if you chose to go, you must give a Wizard’s Honor vow not to tell anyone of what you are about to see or discuss.”

Lucius arched an eyebrow, and maintained an ironic attitude. “A Wizard’s Honor vow? Not a magical vow, as would be more appropriate for the Ministry official business?”

Shacklebolt grew in ferocity and seethed. “Since you are not a total moron, Mr. Malfoy, you may have already guessed that this is not official Ministry business. While this matter is not about the Second War, it is not completely unrelated. So, yes, there will be unpleasant subjects about loyalties and such. To be fair, none of it will be taken in consideration by the Wizengamot when considering your case… unless you request it to be.”

“Any particular reason for me to make such a request?”

Shacklebolt smirked. “That is up to you, Mr. Malfoy. You may find it to your benefit.”

“Yet you say it has nothing to do with the Ministry and the Wizengamot.”

“Oh, rest assured, Mr. Malfoy. Nothing here is Ministry- or Wizengamot-sanctioned.” He looked at them. “So. What do you say? Are you in or out?”

There was a slight hesitation, and Lucius consulted Narcissa without a word. She nodded, as did Draco. Turning to Shacklebolt, he shrugged. “Lead the way, Mr. Minister.”

Shacklebolt smirked and opened the door.

Nothing strange greeted the Malfoy trio, but Kingsley led them to a couple dressed in pale robes.

“Mr. Malfoy, let me introduce you to Mr. Elohim and his wife, Apsara. These are Lucius Malfoy, his wife Narcissa, and their son Draco.”

They exchanged brief handshakes. Lucius felt a strange warmth as their hands touched. Apsara smile at Draco and Narcissa, and exclaimed, “Such a beautiful young man. You must be very proud of your son, Madam.”

Lucius couldn’t help but realize the subtle way of disarming Cissy’s natural suspicions about the strangers. “Thank you, Madam.”

Kinglsey dropped the bomb, “Elohim and Apsara are Severus Snape’s real parents.”

Three sets of eyebrows went dramatically up at the information. “Indeed?” said Lucius. “I can hardly wait to hear the whole story. On the other hand, I don’t know if you are aware of the great friendship and admiration I had for your son. Such a great loss.”

“As a matter of fact, Mr. Malfoy, I am quite aware of the closeness between you and my son. I understand you have been friends from an early age.”

“Yes, we met right here, at Hogwarts.”

Apsara turned to Narcissa. “From one mother to another, Madam, would you mind telling me a little about my son?”

“Of course not,” said the lofty woman, though her eyes warmed up. “Severus was a dear friend, and a mentor to our son Draco. I turned to him to help Draco through particularly difficult times, and Severus didn’t shrink away from his duty. I am extremely grateful to him for protecting Draco, risking so much and paying a terrible price to keep his word.”

“You must love your boy very much,” observed Apsara. “I can see the love and devotion. For Draco, you took on attitudes and roles that were a surprise even to yourself. Didn’t you?”

Narcissa’s pale face turned even whiter, but she controlled herself and said, proudly. “Of course. I am his mother.”

Elohim intervened. “So you must understand we were very happy to learn what you did for young Harry. Even though you had only Draco’s interests in your heart, at the end your very actions protected young Harry. You lied to the Dark One, lied to his face, confirming Harry was dead even though he was not. I applaud your bravery, Madam.”

Silence fell.

Lucius felt his heart freezing in sheer terror, and for a moment he feared his knees would give out on him. He hadn’t known that his wife had lied to the Dark Lord. She had never divulged that particular information; neither did Harry Potter. He looked at his son: Draco was equally livid with shock.

Apparently oblivious to their reactions, Elohim continued, “As you may not be aware, let me tell you why we chose to send Severus on a mission to help Albus Dumbledore.”

“Mission?” repeated Lucius, his voice cracking again.

“Indeed. Severus was here to help against the Dark One. His destiny was to serve good. It seems, however, that he was persuaded to join the forces of darkness and evil. Now tell me, Mr. Malfoy, as a father yourself, what would you do if someone tried to take your son Draco the wrong way and impede him from fulfilling his destiny? What do you think I should I do to the person who misled my boy?”

“Well, I… Probably I’d… er..”

Elohim’s voice was losing his natural sweetness and becoming harsh and foreboding at each word. “Because there was someone who was responsible for the downfall of my boy. There was someone who stripped Severus of all that he was and sold his soul to all that was vile and evil and harmful and foul and WRONG!”

Lucius lost what little color he had left on his face as Elohim’s nice features turned into a fierce face. But the almighty Lord Malfoy was beyond himself when his bewildered eyes watched Elohim spread his wings in full span, charging him with fury like genuine divine wrath.

The reactions were swift and unavoidable.

Narcissa fainted dead away on the spot; Draco screamed (like a girl, some might say), and Lucius tried valiantly to stay on his feet, but this time his knees did give out and he went down to his knees, terrified.

“That’s the second human woman who has fainted,” observed Elohim with a curious expression. “I wonder if that happens very often.”

Apsara gently asked Elohim, “I wonder if this a good time to let them know Severus is alive, beloved.”

Upon hearing that, Lucius felt as if he could join Narcissa in the floor.

“Perhaps,” answered Elohim, nonplussed. “I guess taking them with us is out of the question, then?”

“I suggest we try asking them more directly, beloved.”

“Excellent idea.”

“And I would also suggest you try to tone down the dramatics. Maybe it will reduce female fainting.”

“Oh,” Elohim looked genuinely surprised. “I will try this other approach, then. Thanks for the tip, my love.”

Kingsley could only smirk and help out with Narcissa. He never dreamed he would live to see that kind of expression on any of the Malfoy’s haughty features.


	9. Chapter 9

The commotion over the Malfoys lasted a bit longer.

Lucius decided to concentrate on Narcissa’s well-being, rather than the strangers. When he entered the area of the hospital wing where his wife was being treated, he saw Severus, his childhood friend. Draco had his eyes glued to the vision that was his former Headmaster. The wings were unmistakable – as well as unforgettable, of course. Lucius himself felt he could hardly take his eyes from the dark, beautiful, long feathers that peeped out of the hospital sheets.

The school nurse was there, as well as the Headmistress, and Molly Weasley. What the Weasley matriarch was doing there was explained when Lucius spotted Harry Potter in the other bed right beside Severus. The unconscious boy looked a bit pale, but fortunately _he_ had not sprouted wings. It would have been too much for the blond to take.

In a short while, after Narcissa recovered her senses, Elohim reunited all three Malfoys again.

“Exactly what do you want with us?” asked Lucius loftily.

“Due to Severus’ condition, we will have to get him home, as well as Harry Potter. It occurred to me that an old friend, such as you, would like to accompany him on this journey. I am sure Severus will be glad to see a familiar face when he recovers. Also, perhaps young Draco can also be good company for young Harry.”

Draco snorted, and Lucius immediately glared at him. Then he turned to Elohim. “Is this why you called us?”

The nice, soothing voice of Elohim became harsh once more. “I wanted to give you an opportunity to atone for what you did to Severus and to many, many others, I am sure. You decided to follow that Dark Wizard because you actually believed wizards are better than non-magical people, and worse, that some wizards are better than others. Based on what? Blood, as if yours is any different. Should I prick your flesh, would you bleed any differently from the ones you call inferior?”

Lucius became defiant, yet he did not contest Elohim. “And this trip would atone for that?”

Elohim was even less pleased. “You are different from the rest of your family, Mr. Malfoy. You voluntarily followed that man, dragged your family and your friends into his madness. When the tide changed and things went sour for you, you wanted out. But you know that there is no way out of the Dark Lord’s services. So you had no choice but to stay and contemplate the size of your mistakes. Yet your heart didn’t change; I can see that. Unlike your wife and your son. Your son was too young to offer any resistance to your lead. He followed you, because all his life he admired you and expected one day to be like you. I suspect this changed. There is a good chance that now Draco just wants to live his life without expecting to buy half the world.

“As for your wife, she never cared much for the Dark Lord. But she made a gesture of grandeur that saved Harry Potter’s life. She had no altruistic motive other than guaranteeing Draco’s safety. But she thinks beyond herself. And Draco now also realizes he can’t treat other people as if they were inferior. You are the one who can’t think beyond your own petty little self. I hoped that being at your friend’s side would help you realize that, too. Perhaps my hopes were too high.”

Malfoy’s face was inscrutable. “Do you have an idea of how long this… journey will take?”

Elohim smiled sadly. “I believe it won’t do you any good to come with us, Mr. Malfoy. Would you agree with this?”

Lucius pressed his lips against each other. Then he nodded once, as if forced, as if he could not lie. Elohim sighed.

“In that case, I appreciate your coming here on such short notice. Rest assured there will be no negative repercussions on your impending trial.”

“Minister Shacklebolt had already informed us of that,” said Lucius, his gestures indicating his impatience to leave as soon as possible. “I trust Severus will be all right.”

“I thank you for asking about Severus’ health. We still don’t know yet, but we’re very hopeful.”

“Good luck to you. All the best.” He turned to Narcissa, who was with Draco. “Are you both ready? It’s time to go.”

Kingsley stepped up. “Not so fast. Since they are not going to help, I think it’s wise to ensure the secrecy.”

Lucius’ lips were pressed against each other as he spat, “We gave our word! On Wizard’s Honor! It is insulting to even imply-”

Kingsley raised his arms, as if showing he was disarmed. “I was not implying anything. It’s just that not everyone can resist Imperius these days. Or a compulsion.”

“And what do you suggest?”

“Obliviate all three of you.”

Narcissa’s eyes were gleaming with indignation, more than Draco’s or Lucius’. Elohim raised a hand before things escalated, “As much as I appreciate our friend Kingsley’s zealous precautions, there is no need for such a drastic measure. I am afraid, friends, that you will not be able to talk about this to anyone but amongst yourselves. I have placed upon you a compulsion, so to speak. You have a word for it. I believe it’s called a geas.” There were alarmed looks towards him, and he immediately added, “Not that it will make you uncomfortable or anything, it will just prevent you from speaking of us. I apologize immensely for doing so without consulting you, but I felt it was needed to protect my people. Again, I am very sorry.”

Lucius huffed as if he were one of the albino peacocks in his Manor. “No use discussing it now. It is done. And we shall be going now. Once more, our highest hopes will be for Severus’ speedy recovery.”

Elohim bowed. “I thank you again for your cooperation. If there’s anything we can do, please tell me.”

Lucius slightly bowed his head, then held out his arm. Narcissa gracefully took it, smiling diplomatically at Apsara. Draco followed his parents’ lead, not daring to utter a word, even a goodbye. Kingsley elegantly led them through the door back to the floo. Elohim sighed when they were gone.

“I had such high hopes,” confessed Elohim.

“Give them time, beloved. Humans usually need that.”

Minerva and Molly chose this moment to come to them. The Headmistress could not help but see their dismay.

“Plans have gone awry; I gather?”

“Unfortunately,” confirmed Elohim. “Never mind. I am confident this will be solved in time.”

Molly Weasley asked, “What can we do to help you? I feel so helpless.”

Apsara took her hand gently. “Madam, it is so kind of you to offer help when we should be the ones offering it. You suffered such a terrible loss.”

The matriarch’s eyes watered and she smiled, “Thank you. I am really worried about Harry. Are you sure he is going to be all right?”

“We are doing our best to assure they both recover fully in the shortest possible time. That is why they will be better cared for in our home. Everything is prepared, and we will go as soon as they are in a condition to be moved.”

“Thank Merlin,” sighed Molly. “I’m not sure if we could handle more bad news.”

“Please return home and calm your family. I know all of you have the best feelings for Harry, as do we. Go rest and take care of your own. Harry is in good hands.”

“But if you need anything…”

“I’ll ask the noble Kingsley immediately,” guaranteed Elohim. “Fear not, honorable mother. Go in peace.”

“Actually, I’d better be going. Since there’s nothing I really can do…”

Minerva reminded her, “And Harry is not expected to wake so soon. Madam Pomfrey herself is busy with other things.”

“I am personally taking care of Harry, as well as Severus,” said Apsara. “Tell your family he will be all right.”

Kingsley returned at this moment and said, “Well, somebody could not wait for Molly to return and spread the good news.”

They all looked at the redheaded young man who had come in the hospital wing with the minister. His mother didn’t look pleased and asked, “Ron, didn’t I tell you to wait for me?”

“I had to come,” protested the boy. “I’ve let Harry down once; I won’t do it again. Ginny wanted to come but I told her he might not be up for it yet.”

“You’ve just come home after months away with Harry,” complained Molly. “I thought you’d settle down for a while.”

“But Mum!” argued Ron. “Look at him. He’s my friend. He needs me.”

Elohim and Apsara were staring at him curiously, letting the Weasley drama unfold. Molly went on, “But he is under good care. These people come from a distant land, and they know what they are doing. Besides, they will take him away as soon as Harry gets better. I hoped you’d stay with us this time.”

“Mum,” said Ron again, looking as if he was about to lose his patience, “he is my _friend_! I have to be here until he is fine. Why can’t you understand that?”

Apsara and Elohim exchanged pleased looks. Then Elohim nodded.

“That is how we define a friend. Welcome, Ron Weasley. I believe you should pack for a journey, if you really want to help Harry.”

“Er,” sounded Kingsley. “I was wondering about the parliament.”

Minerva asked, “Parliament? I was not aware of a legislative body in the wizarding world other than the Wizengamot. Are you planning on establishing one?”

“No, nothing of that kind. I was referring to parliament as in the collective noun used for owls. They are literally flocking the entrance to the hospital wing, messing up almost everything – including the reporters who are on duty. People are getting quite concerned for Harry’s health.”

Apsara turned to Ron. “Maybe you should join Neville and tell them Harry is getting stronger and is to be transferred to an unknown location at this time. If they ask, tell them he is stable, but still unconscious. Go with Kingsley, and then they will believe him, too.”

“R-reporters?”

“You will do just fine, Ron. While you’re there, I should check on Severus.”


	10. Chapter 10

“All I know is that Harry is getting stronger, so he can go to the place where the specialists will treat him,” answered Neville truthfully.

“Do you confirm that, Mr. Weasley?” A reporter turned to Ron.

“Yeah. Neville knows more about what’s going on than me. I just got here.”

“Mr. Minister, why are you around? Shouldn’t you be forming an emergency cabinet or something?”

“As you know, I am here by request of the Wizengamot, who also wants to be fully apprised of Mr. Potter’s health condition. As Mr. Potter collapsed during a Wizengamot session, it is only natural that its members are concerned for the young hero’s situation. I am also keeping tabs of everything happening at the Ministry.”

“Is there any danger of You-Know-Who returning?”

“Not in the least,” reassured Kingsley adamantly. “This curse is nasty but it most definitely is not related to any possible return of the so called Dark Lord. Of that, there rests no doubt.”

“So Harry Potter might recover and be elected Minister of Magic?”

“We are all certain that Mr. Potter will recover. As for his future plans, you will have to ask him yourself, should he choose to answer. The press and Mr. Potter, as far as I know, have quite of history of misunderstandings in the past, I’m afraid. I wonder why is that?”

Rita Skeeter, silent until then, delivered a bomb coated in a sweet voice. “Mr. Minister, our sources tell us that the secret Wizengamot meeting in which Mr. Potter collapsed was about the awarding of a prize to Severus Snape, a known Death Eater. Care to comment on that?”

Kingsley tried to maintain his composure. “Let me just make a few corrections, Ms. Skeeter. The session was not secret, but it was indeed about granting an award for Severus Snape, who was and had been a spy during many years for the Order of the Phoenix, a spy who had the entire and unshakable trust of Albus Dumbledore, and who fought against the Dark Lord at great danger to himself. He also died for the forces of light, and what I say is no news to you. Harry Potter himself has reassured the Wizengamot of Severus Snape’s true role during the Second War, substantiated by Dumbledore’s memories.”

Skeeter was not intimidated. “There have been several doubts about that. His mandate as Hogwarts Headmaster is described by the students as a reign of terror, and it was issued by a Board of Governors dominated by the Dark Lord himself. If he was as pro-Dumbledore as you say, why did he accept the post?”

“In Snape’s defense, Harry Potter presented a memory in which it is proven that Dumbledore asked him to protect Hogwarts, should the worst happen. If he rebelled against the powers that be, the least he could expect was to be sacked, and then how could he keep the promise he made to Dumbledore?”

Skeeter made a face as if she was in for the kill. “Let’s not beat around the bush, shall we, Minister? Severus Snape _killed_ Albus Dumbledore. What sort of hero is that?”

There was murmur among the dozens of reporters. Kingsley asked for silence, and reminded them, “I will repeat: the memories shown in the Wizengamot proved, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Dumbledore asked Snape to kill him since he was doomed to die due to an accursed Dark object. Professor Snape reacted badly to that request, but in the end he agreed. They were hoping to spare a young man who had been coerced into accepting the mission of killing the Headmaster. I would say their plan worked.”

“Mr. Longbottom” called out another reporter, “do you agree that Snape was on the side of the Light? Didn’t you suffer his tortures and cruel punishments as you formed a sort of resistance against the new regime in Hogwarts?”

All eyes, cameras and quills turned to the shy and quiet Gryffindor, who blushed. “Snape was harsh, yes. But he never used a curse against us. Coming to think of it, if he had been sacked, many of us would have suffered Crucio on regular basis. It took me a while to realize how badly things might have been if the Carrows were in charge.”

“But things were bad, weren’t they?”

“Of course they were. If Snape went too soft on us, it would have shown. We suspected they would expel us at any time before we took refuge.”

“Mr. Minister, is there any truth in the rumor that Snape’s real parents were at the session of the Wizengamot?”

“Where did you hear that rumor?”

“So it is true? Could you comment on that?”

“I’m not really comfortable-“

A reporter interrupted, “Why is it such a secret? And didn’t his parents die a long time ago?”

Kingsley looked harshly at the young man. “It is not a matter of secrecy, but of _privacy_. It is a hard time on a family who is grieving a terrible loss. There is nothing to hide here, no conspiracy. I have been civil in answering all your questions. But I will respect the privacy that these people have requested of me. All I can tell you is that Severus Snape was separated from his biological parents, who came here to collect his remains and bury him in their homeland. Please don’t ask me any more. I count on your compassion for parents who are mourning the loss of their son, as many of our compatriots are mourning their own losses. And we are talking about a war hero here. We owe these people respect and admiration for the great sacrifice their son made for our freedom. Don’t you agree?”

Even Neville, who knew better, nodded, enthralled by Kingsley’s power of persuasion. So did several reporters. Rita Skeeter humphed unimpressed, though.

Ron Weasley, who had been left out from the questions, suddenly looked beyond the mass of reporters to a point near the front door. He thought he was mistaken; this could not be the girl he thought it was. _Wasn’t she in Australia?_

It was indeed Hermione, who hailed him and ran to him, attracting shots from cameras. They hugged briefly, and then she hugged Neville, too.

“I came as soon as I heard,” she panted. “Ron, what happened? Is Harry all right?”

Ron opened his mouth, but looked at all reporters waiting for his answers. “Harry is stable now, but he is still unconscious. He is being treated. Why don’t we ask if Madame Pomfrey will let you take a look at him?”

“Can’t we stay?” she asked.

“Visits are limited for now,” Ron answered, looking at the reporters who were eagerly trying to get pieces of their conversation. “And how are your parents?”

“They are fine, now. I put them on a plane and came as soon as I could. Is Harry in there?”

“Let’s get inside,” invited Ron. “Nev, do you want to come, too?”

“Yes, let me see if anything new has come up.” He looked at the reporters. “Why don’t you people take a break? Harry is fine, and it looks like he won’t wake up for a while. I’m sure you could use some rest. The Minister, too.”

Ron took Hermione by the hand and Neville went with them, leaving Kingsley alone to deal with the recalcitrant members of the press who were unwilling to leave the premises.

As soon as they were inside the hospital wing, Hermione faced the other two.

"Something's wrong, isn't it? Harry is not all right, is he?"

"Relax, Mione," said Ron. "Harry _is_ all right, but we couldn't say more in front of them."

"So what is going on?"

It took them awhile to explain everything to her, especially because, being Hermione, the girl really wanted to hear all the details and understand things as much as she could.

"I've never heard of these people before," confessed Hermione, and she looked vexed at the notion. "This is all unbelievable. Snape is _alive_?"

Neville whispered, "You should see his wings."

"And it is true Harry has his brain inside his mind?"

"Something like that," confirmed Ron. "Neville said his parents were actually cool. They talked to the Malfoys, but things did not go well. Kingsley was there, but he is not sharing."

"What can we do?"

A different voice behind them answered, "I guess you already know the answer to that question, Ronald Weasley."

The redhead turned to face Elohim and his wife. Hermione did the same, and Ron could see that she was impressed. No surprise there: their gentle smiles and benign expression talked of emotional depths and non-judgmental ways. He proceeded to make the introductions.

"Mione, meet Mr. Elohim and his wife Apsara. They are Professor Snape's real parents. Hermione is a great friend of Harry's."

“We are very pleased you came,” said Apsara.

“I wish I had come sooner. Ron tells me Harry and Snape should be fine.”

“Yes, we hope they both will be fine. It won’t be long until young Harry wakes up and then we can travel.”

“Travel?”

“They can only be treated in our world,” explained Apsara. “My husband and I hoped we could convince Ronald to accompany us. Now, I am positive you should also come with us, Hermione.”

“Go where?”

“To our homeland, where we can treat both of them. Actually, you may be just what Harry needs. If you are willing to go, of course."

"My parents are not going to like this. I've just gotten home after almost a year on the road."

"Ron's mum said the same thing," said Neville.

"It seems so incredible," said Hermione. "Professor Snape did not seem to be the type we would associate with er... angels."

"Harry is gonna freak out," said Ron. "Everything does seem to happen to him."

Apsara said, "You shan't be gone long. After all, time is such a relative thing, isn’t it? Alas, I must tend to young Harry now. I will call you when he is ready."

She went in, and Hermione asked, "So Harry will be conscious?"

"No reason for him not to, once their joined essences get separated enough for him to feel his own individuality," said Elohim.

"Will the same happen to Professor Snape?"

"I'm afraid not. His essence is now in Harry's mind. The delicate balance has been disrupted, and we are trying to restore it."

"Amazing," the girl was in awe. "And will he be the same when he wakes up?"

"That remains to be seen. After all, his human traces seem to have vanished when he died. He may become a totally different person once he reunites with his essence."

"Wicked," was Ron's observation.

"Snape with a new personality?" asked Neville, in disbelief. "This I’ve got to see."


	11. Chapter 11

There was an anvil the size of a Hungarian Horntail dragon on Harry's head. At least that was how it felt.

A gentle hand, gentler than Madam Pomfrey's, helped him with his potion. It tasted wonderful and took the edge of semi-consciousness off him. He looked around and saw a gentle lady, one not totally unfamiliar, but he couldn't quite recall from where he knew her.

It only took a few seconds for him to remember. Everything came to his mind at once, like a tsunami wave. He sat up, startled.

"What happened?" his voice cracked.

Apsara looked at him, and that gesture alone comforted Harry. "It's all right; you are fine now. But something unexpected happened. Let me fill you in while you eat something. Here, this will help."

And that was why, even though Harry had woken up, he still had the feeling that he was in a dream. Snape was alive? His mind held his essence? They would have to go to their home?

The feeling of a dream only increased when Harry turned his head and saw his former Defense and Potions Professor (Harry couldn't call him Headmaster) at the nearest bed, the black wings peeping from under the sheets.

"It’s all so incredible," Harry whispered, finishing his plate of a food he didn’t recognize, but that was delicious anyway. "He didn't look... the type, you know? I mean, to us, you really are angels. That is hardly the word we would use for Professor Snape, no offense.”

"He will have a hard time adapting, should he choose to learn our ways," predicted Apsara, in a sad way. "I hope he will try, though. But I would like to talk to you, if you’re amenable to it. I would like to know my son."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose there are things he could try. For instance, he is already a great protector, and has looked after me my whole life, because of my Mum. He loved her very much."

"My son tried to save her, but he couldn't. On top of his grief, it almost destroyed him, I believe." She took one look at Harry’s intrigued expression and gently smiled, with an explanation to his unsaid question. "We watched him every now and then, from a distance. A mother likes to take care of her child."

"He has a way of flowing his robes, too. There is also something about the way he moves, the precision of movements."

"It is a trait of Elohim. Grace, fluidity. Almost like you on your brooms. But we don't need brooms to fly."

Harry's eyes went wide, and he remembered. "Neither does he! He can fly from nothing. It always amazed me, as if he were... err... As if he had..."

"As if he had wings?" Apsara smiled fondly. "He is such a natural. I would like him to experience the feeling of being airborne under his own wings. There is nothing like it, I tell you." She blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry. You are so fond of flying, and I shouldn't be telling you these things."

Harry admitted, "I do feel a tad envious, yes."

“You shouldn’t be. You have your own talents in flying, and they are quite formidable. You should be fine. But I must warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“About having his _midrash_. All his memories, everything he was, you carry it all with you. There will be times when they may try to come to surface. If they do, there’s no cause for panic. Just tell me, and I will deal with them.”

“I don’t quite follow.”

“His _midrash_ may overtake your mind. If that happens, you may or may not recall the experience. So, if you wake up feeling strange, it may be because of this.”

“I don’t remember this happening before.”

“But it did, dear. It seems you would not remember. Don’t fret, though. You are still recovering, and we will pretty soon travel home so that we can sort you out. I mean, sort _both_ of you out.”

“This trip will be long? I mean, is your home very far from here?”

“Don’t you worry about that. It won’t feel different from any other of your Apparations. And you get to have your friends come with you.”

“Friends?”

“Ronald and Hermione came as soon as they could. They agreed to come with us. Young Neville will be handling the press. Kingsley is also here, as well as Minerva and Poppy, of course. And Molly came by, too. She was quite anxious about you, but now she’s fine.”

“How long have I been out exactly?”

“Some time, but you must not worry about it. You are still getting stronger. Tell you what: why don't I let your friends make a quick visit? They are quite anxious to see you. Ron, Hermione, and Neville are waiting to come in. May I tell them to enter?"

"Yes, please."

Even though Apsara gave them privacy, Harry couldn't help but feel Snape's presence in the next bed like an unanswered question hanging above their heads. Ron and Hermione were already making plans for the trip, even though Elohim assured them it would be no different from the usual Apparation.

"The thing is, we have no idea how long this whole thing will take. Did the Lady Apsara tell you anything about the time it might take?"

Harry shook his head. "Not that. She warned me that Snape might er... want to come out. In my mind, I mean. It happened before, she said."

"It did?" Neville asked. "Do you remember it?"

"I recall something odd about Professor McGonagall. It was sort of seeing her through other eyes. And I was worried about the school and about me, I mean about Harry Potter. Very strange."

"That’s weird," said Ron.

"Tell me about it. It's strange enough that Snape is alive and has wings, but that his brain is within mine is mind-boggling," said Harry.

"Wow. And now you are going to his homeland. Where is that exactly?"

"She didn't tell me. Maybe Hermione knows."

"They didn’t tell me, and I don't suppose they will. They are obviously trying to protect their identity. I've never heard of their people before. They are called Elohim, right?"

"From what I understood, that's not entirely true," said Harry. "Elohim is the name we humans called their race a long time ago, when they were viewed as angels. I don't know how they call themselves."

"Angels?" Hermione almost shrieked. "They were -are- _angels_? How do you know so much, Harry?"

"I heard the case they presented to the Wizengamot. I was there to speak of Snape's true role during the war. They gave him a posthumous medal."

"How are they gonna react to the fact that Snape's alive? I don't suppose they will take his medal back."

"I'm not sure."

"Could Snape never have known he was one of them? Then he would know he didn’t die, and then he would have sent you his mind thing."

"I think he knew as much as we did. He really _did_ die, Hermione." Harry lay down. "His Mum told me she sensed it.”

"He died all right," confirmed Neville. "His magic left his body, I saw it with my own eyes. Then he sprouted wings, and he was breathing again. Apparently, it was an automatic response or something like that."

“What an interesting race,” commented Hermione.

"Nev, would you like to go?" asked Ron.

"Go?"

"With Harry and Herm. I could stay here, if you like."

"No, it's OK, Ron. I'd rather help Harry with the press. You three are so used to going on adventures together. Unless you'd like me to go with you, Harry.” Neville turned to see The Boy-Who-Lived stretched on the bed. “Harry? Harry? Are you asleep?”

The boy on the bed opened his eyes, and Neville frowned. Harry raised his head and looked around, as if confused.

Hermione asked, “Are you all right?”

“I am not sure.” His voice sounded different, noticed Neville.

“What’s wrong?” insisted Hermione.

“Do you want me to call anyone?” asked Ron.

“I am quite confused,” confessed the boy quietly. “The school… Is it safe?”

“What are you on about, mate?” snorted Ron.

Harry looked at him, and seemed to be amused. “Mr… Weasley?”

“You’re scaring me, mate. Don’t joke like that.”

Hermione whispered, “I don’t think he’s joking, Ron.”

Harry turned to her, and looked even more intrigued. “Ms. Granger?”

“Harry?”

The boy looked at her as if she had sprung a third arm from her mid section. “Why on Merlin’s name are you calling me Potter?”

Her eyes widened once she realized. Then she whispered. “Oh, Merlin. His eyes are black. His voice is all wrong.”

“Blimey,” breathed Ron, losing all color in his face. “is it… Snape?”

“Of course it is me, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry, in Snape’s mellifluous voice. “What is going on here? Why do I feel like… Like…” He laid down again. “I should just… rest a bit…”

And he moved no more. Hermione called, “Sir? Professor, can you hear me?”

“He fainted,” said Ron.

Neville got up. “I will fetch Lady Apsara.”

She recognized it was Severus’s consciousness taking over Harry’s body and decided it was no longer possible to wait. They had to go immediately.

In a few minutes, both Harry and Snape were on gurneys. Elohim and Apsara said their goodbyes, announcing they would not be back, unless things took a turn for the worse. Neville, McGonagall, Kingsley and Pomfrey watched as they simply vanished from the hospital wing, taking Ron and Hermione with them.


	12. Chapter 12

As Apparations went, this one was not one of the worst, decided Ron Weasley, before he looked around to see where it was that they had landed. It was a smooth transition, not to mention a pleasant sensation in his body, a sort of warmth that was felt rather in the very depths of his soul.

When he looked around, he saw all the others standing before what seemed to be a huge white marble Roman temple, with high columns and front steps leading to a closed building. The sky was strange, thought Ron, looking rather pinkish instead of blue. He wondered if this was another dimension, for nobody ever explained correctly where they were going, or where the homeworld of those people was located.

There was an atmosphere of reverence and respect. In silence, their group climbed the steps and they were greeted at the huge wooden door by an elderly woman, dressed in pale robes with a funny headdress and a fierce look in her very blue eyes. She was surrounded by other ladies (quite lovely, noticed Ron) also in diaphanous gowns.

“Greeting, Venerable Hierophant,” Elohim bowed.

“Greetings to all,” said the lady, but she frowned at Ron. The young man was intrigued.

Then she turned to Apsara. “Is this your son?”

“He is, Venerable.” The gentle lady looked subdued.

The old lady looked at Hermione with hope in her eyes. “And is that human the keeper of the _midrash_?”

“No, Venerable. It is that one,” she motioned to Harry. “The young male human could not bear my son’s _midrash_ and collapsed.”

That was surely not the answer that the Hierophant was expecting. She looked at Ron in a reproaching manner. “And why is this male here?”

Apsara tried to appease her. “He is a hero, along with the keeper of the _midrash_. They are friends.”

“Keep this friend outside. Acolytes, take them to the Honorable Chamber. Apsara, you and the human girl can come with me. There is not a moment to lose.”

The robed ladies took the gurneys and the old woman turned gracefully. Apsara took Hermione by the hand and they went inside the temple, even before Ron tried to react. Elohim, who also was not allowed inside, turned to him just in time.

“Don’t worry. You couldn’t come inside anyway.”

“But Hermione is all alone in there!...”

“She will be fine. Men are not allowed inside the temple. Our people have known for a long time that feminine energy deals better with healing and spiritual activities.”

Ron’s eyes went wide. “Don’t let Hermione hear that. She’ll say it’s discriminating or condescending.”

“Well,” smirked Elohim. “Then we shall have to make sure she knows it is because men are ill-equipped to address the finer things. Actually, we could say males are very weak in this area. Helpless, I have heard.”

They shared a smile of complicity and Ron felt better.

o0o o0o o0o o0o

Hermione looked at the vast building before her, amazed that the outside of it could be so deceptive about its size. But her attention turned when the High Priestess ordered Apsara, “You can take her to the antechamber and change clothes. The acolytes will deal with the gurneys, and they will take you to the ceremony when all preparations are finished. It won’t be long.”

In the other room, Hermione was given a gown and bathed in some unscented liquid as Apsara also changed. She said, “I am sorry we had no opportunity to talk about this. The ceremony needs to purify, as you will speak for Harry.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Harry is very fortunate to have you, for none of his male friends would be allowed inside the Merkavah – the Noblest Altar. But purification is of the essence, and that is what the acolytes are doing to them both. My son has seen violence and death, as has Harry. They need deeper cleansing, because of the transference of energy they will experience. You will stand by Harry, and I will stand for the one you call Severus Snape. There shall be no danger for you, but the whole affair is quite solemn.”

“I see,” said Hermione, admiring her gown.

Apsara sighed. “I never thought I’d be back inside these hallowed halls under these circumstances.”

“You have been here before.”

“I was once an acolyte myself. I wished to devote my life to the sacred mysteries and the Amesha. The Hierophant thought I could become her successor someday.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“My beloved,” she answered with a luminous smile. “He made of habit of flying over our yard during afternoon prayers. I guess the religious life was not my destiny.”

Hermione looked around. “This place looks very nice and peaceful, if a bit formal.”

“That’s the Hierophant’s prerogative. She’s not a bad person.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Hermione. “I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression.”

“Perhaps I should warn you,” said Apsara, almost in subdued fashion, “I must apologize for the Hierophant. She is not very fond of humans, especially male ones.”

“Really? Any particular reason?”

“She is Gabriel’s mother. That whole episode in Sodom and Gomorrah left her quite… upset.”

“Which episode?”

It took Hermione some time to cope with the facts Apsara told her. Not being particularly religious, the impact was not quite as great as Snape’s mother believed. Nevertheless, they had no time to dwell on biblical passages, as an acolyte respectfully bowed to take them to the Merkavah – the Noblest Altar.

“You shall remain quiet until you reach the Merkavah,” instructed the acolyte.

There was a sort of antechamber with three ritual couches, where Hermione and Apsara sat, as instructed by the acolyte. The young lady also guided Ron and Elohim inside the antechamber. The young man made a bee line for his friend.

Ron could not even open his mouth.

“You shall not talk to the _hochendame_ ,” hissed the acolyte. “You are to be quiet at all times!”

For the first time since it all began, Ron Weasley decided to take offence at the young lady. Sensing this, Elohim touched his arm and whispered, “Don’t argue with an Initiate.”

Ron was about to retort, but a massive wooden side door opened and more acolytes came in, escorting a floating bed with Snape, who was still unconscious. Behind the procession, Harry walked in, dressed in pristine white robes. Ron had to repress the impulse to talk to him, receiving glares from both the acolyte and Elohim. Harry didn’t even glance at him, following the line at a ritual pace.

But the acolytes never stopped. Instead, they went to the massive door, which opened apparently on its own, and so came the procession. Ron was almost getting up to follow them, then looked at Elohim. It was the wise thing to do, because the man just shook his head in a negative way.

The acolyte, Hermione and Apsara gracefully followed the procession, and the heavy door shut, leaving both men alone in the chamber. Ron became so upset he turned to Elohim most dramatically.

“Males are not allowed in the Chamber of the Merkavah. It is a female mystery reserved for women only,” explained Elohim patiently.

“What are we supposed to do?” asked Ron.

“We should wait.”

That was the last thing Ron wanted to hear.


	13. Chapter 13

It was as strange as strange could get, thought Hermione as she entered the Merkavah. Not even the Great Hall at Hogwarts could compare.

The Noblest Altar was a humongous room. It was so big that it seemed to be in a plateau high on a mountain, but there were strange walls. A trick of light? she wondered.

Well, she was sure there was _something_ about the light. Because it didn’t give her a sense of foreboding nor was it warm as was the Great Hall. There was an air of respect around it, for sure. Actually, Hermione felt as if thousands of people were watching them. But there was no one in there, except for the small procession, and five more priestesses to assist the Hierophant.

They marched quietly to a huge round structure, higher as if to an altar where the Hierophant and the priestesses stood ceremoniously. They were also young women, or so they looked to Hermione, but their features were already as solemn as the Hierophant.

A curtain of wind chimes, 23 feet high and 66 feet long, attracted the girl’s attention with a heavenly sound, almost like a breezy whisper, as they marched towards the Noblest Altar. The air held a soft quality about them, and Hermione felt a deep connection, somewhere inside her.

Finally, within a respectful distance of the Hierophant and her priestesses, the procession came to a halt. The chimes silenced. The Hierophant’s voice, authoritative and clear, filled the huge dome.

“You have come before the Noblest Altar on behalf of the one you call Severus Snape. State your name.”

“I am Apsara.” Her voice echoed in ripples, like a soothing wave.

“Apsara, Daughter, Sister, Friend. You have come to us with a most unusual request. State your wish before the Merkavah.”

“I wish the Living Merge.”

“What you ask has not been done in living memory. And we know of it in legend only.”

“Forgive me, Mother of All Mothers. But this is my son. To save him, I would resort to myths and beyond.”

The Hierophant nodded.

“Who speaks for the keeper of the _midrash_?”

Hermione felt Apsara’s eyes on her and answered, “I do. My name is Hermione.”

“Say, _hochendame_ , do you stand by the keeper of the _midrash_?”

“Until the very end.”

“I must warn you and your ward that the Living Merge should be deemed dangerous. The risks to him are as grave and as great as the risks to the one you call Severus Snape himself. As _hochendame_ , you must make a choice for your ward.”

Hermione consulted Harry with a brief look and found acceptance in the bright green eyes. “We choose the risks.”

“Then bring the keeper to the Merkavah.”

With the acolytes’ help, Hermione took Harry to the altar, where the priestesses took him to a ritual bed or gurney and placed him besides Snape. He flashed her a quick grin for reassurance and his eyes began to get heavy. The girl was gently taken out of the Altar and stood beside Apsara, who was stiff as the air began to get thick and sort of oily.

The chimes began to sound again and the Hierophant approached the two lying men. She placed one hand upon Snape’s temple and another upon Harry’s temple. The priestess began to chant as the old matriarch lowered her head and entered into, what seemed to Hermione, to be a deep trance. Apsara also had her head down, as if praying. In a sense she was, Hermione admitted.

For some time, nothing happened, except for chanting, chiming and praying. At least, that is what it seemed from the outside. But the air was so thick, almost dense, yet not stifling, assessed Hermione. She joined the prayers for a while, but her focus was Harry. He didn’t display any discomfort, so she gradually began to ease.

There was no way of telling how much time had passed. Then the Hierophant joined her hands high above her head and looked up. The priestesses, in a gracious ballet, did the same, and the chiming grew louder. Eyes closed, Apsara threw her head backwards, towards the sky. Hermione tensed, sensing something big was happening. It was odd, more than anything.

Then, suddenly, it was over. The chiming and the chanting. Hermione held her breath as the priestesses helped Harry up to the altar. The young man looked unsteady as he was guided to a side door Hermione hadn’t notice. She moved as if to go there, but Apsara held her arm and whispered, “You can go to him later.” The group disappeared through the door.

A second group of priestesses helped Snape up. The former Headmaster kept his back to Hermione, but she could see when the ladies helped him put on a sort of white robe with a hood. His face was covered when he was led, also looking unsteady, through a second side door.

Hermione’s anxiety was palpable when the Hierophant approached them. The old lady seemed to have aged a century during those few minutes. For the first time, she looked kindly at both women.

“Apsara, sister, friend, I trust your son will recover, in time. All went well.”

Hermione was surprised to see that Apsara, usually so cool and together, let a sigh and a tear escape her features.

The Hierophant then turned to her and said, “Your ward behaved surprisingly well. I could see in his mind his profound gratitude and appreciation for things in the past. He also seemed to regret not being able to help the owner of the _midrash_ before. His heart is his most valuable quality.”

“So he will be fine?”

“Give him some time to recover. Keeping someone’s _midrash_ is usually very taxing. But to keep it alive and whole for someone who is still breathing is another feat, and not a small one. Your ward should be fine.”

Hermione gave a small smile, and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The Hierophant turned to Apsara, “Both of them should be isolated for a while. You will be called when it is time for them to get out of quarantine. You can join now the male ones.”

Both women walked through the heavy wooden door. Hermione located Ron and Elohim on the same bench where she’d seen them before the ceremony began. This time, Ron looked positively anxious. For the first time she could recall, so did Elohim. They rose and went to them.

“How did it go?” asked Elohim.

“The Hierophant said all went well. She paid extensive compliments to young Harry. Our son’s _midrash_ could not be in better hands.”

Relief was almost palpable. Elohim was impressed. “She has never done that before.”

“She said nice words about Harry,” confirmed Hermione.

Apsara said, “To the Hierophant, those were more than nice words. She has no fondness for males of any kind, especially humans.”

“It sounds a bit bigoted to me,” opined Hermione, champion of egalitarian causes. “But it may be a cultural thing. Who am I to judge that, since she was so nice to Harry.”

“Did you see him?” asked Ron. “How is he? And why did it take so long?”

Hermione was confused. “Harry will be fine, but he needs to rest in isolation. And what do you mean so long? We were in there for half an hour at the most.”

Apsara gently informed, “Time flows differently in the Merkavah. I was afraid we were going to be in there for days. Fortunately, just a few hours were enough.”

“Hours? We were in there for _hours_?” Hermione was appalled.

“Different time flow, indeed.” Elohim invited. “Both of you also need some rest. Come, let us be good hosts and see to your needs.”


	14. Chapter 14

There was confusion, and it was a strange, white one. His head seemed to swim in pure wonder, as he wondered about where he was. Actually, it was harder than might be believed; he had memory and awareness, but he did not seem to have a body, a shape, or even a form.

It took a long while until he figured out a few basic things – only to watch all his certainties, one by one, get shattered. It was like a cataclysm, a catastrophe of great proportions. It was equally disturbing and mind-boggling.

All he knew, all he was, all he ever thought to be true was simply not. He was _not_ Severus Snape. He was not a wizard. He had lost all his powers. He had died. Potter had carried his mind around (oh, the implications), so that he, who was called Severus Snape, could be revived.

And that was not all. On top of that, he had to be an angel. With _wings_. It was sort of humiliating, he thought. Except that he didn’t feel humiliated at all.

Amidst all that, came the explanations.

That very nice lady that called herself his mother brought him a peace he had never known while he was alive. He told her that.

“My son”, she smiled fondly, as if laughing at a toddler, “you are alive. You are with us, again.”

“And… these?” He sort of wiggled his wings in a very clumsy manner.

Apsara shrugged, “I realize how upsetting all this must be to you, my son. It’s only natural that you feel a bit awkward. Having been raised as a human, you know only human things. You probably feel that being human is familiar, but it is not your true nature. You wouldn’t have done all you did if were you only human. We are so proud of you.”

That was new to Severus. A loving family.

“Dumbledore knew this?”

“Yes, he was all too aware. We told him that you could not completely die. Your father and I always thought we would be able to know you through your _midrash_. It was our sole consolation, our only hope that you would return to us, even if only in your consciousness. But when we came back and we believed no one had your _midrash_ … It was a terribly devastating loss. To believe you gone forever was too much to bear. Your father was about to commit a great injustice when he demanded reparations before the Wizengamot.”

“Reparations?” he repeated.

Apsara went into great detail to explain and describe everything that happened. Severus was astonished. His father, with whom he had barely exchanged three words, had gone out on a limb to avenge his presumed death. It was a hard concept for Severus to deal. Everything seemed so new to him.

“And so now I am dead to the world?”

“To all wizards in the human world, yes, you are dead, indeed. You can live a long and fruitful life here. We are your people, even though you have never had the opportunity to experience a life amongst your peers. It is your decision, of course. Your father and I will respect that. I am quite sure he is anxious to talk to you, too.”

“F-father wants to talk to me?” He tried to hide his surprise and fear, to no avail.

“Of course. He loves you very much. But he felt that, given your history with the human that you thought was your father, you should prepare yourself. I am so sorry, my son, that you grew up not knowing what it means to have the love and respect of a father. I shall, however, tell you this: not only does your father love you and respect you, he is exceedingly proud of you. He admires you immensely for all the sacrifices you made. All your efforts to make amends and to atone for the damage you caused to the humans you loved mean the world to your father. And to me, too.

“I realize now that you need to hear these words from me to reassure you, my son. I felt your absence deeply, as any mother would. The human woman who raised you also loved you very much, as I am sure you know. When I thought I had lost you, I thought of her. She, too, would have been devastated, had she lived to see your demise.”

Severus agreed. He remembered Eileen Snape fondly; his human mother, the one who taught him to read, to write and to cherish his magic.

“And this is my real world? My real people?”

“I know this comes as a shock to you. Perhaps your father should tell you all the details of his arrangement with that man, Dumbledore. He was so angry when they said you were dead that I was afraid he would raise Dumbledore from the dead.”

“Could he do that?”

Apsara smiled at him fondly, again as if he were a child. “No, he could not. But at that moment, I knew he’d be willing to try.”

“Mother?”

He could feel the intense emotion he caused by calling her mother. On the other hand, he felt so much like a child around her that he couldn’t bring himself to call her anything but that.

Apsara turned to him, “Yes, my son?”

“The way you say Severus makes me wonder if that is not my name anymore. Am I wrong?”

“Actually, that’s up to you. I know that is the name the humans gave you. In case you choose to embrace a new life, you are free to choose a new name, too. But this can be dealt with later. Are you hungry now? Perhaps you’d like to eat something and rest. You’re still recovering.”

“Actually, I was wondering about the children who came with me here. Are they back at Hogwarts?”

“No, they are still here. They said they would love to talk to you.”

“How long have they been here? Aren’t the others going to be worried about them?”

“Son, you don’t have to take care of them anymore. Young Harry is all set now. I believe they just want to say their goodbyes and verify for themselves that you are in good health.”

“I would like to see them as well, but later.”

“Of course. We will talk later, my son.”

o0o o0o o0o

To say the first contact with his father was awkward was the understatement of the millennia. Severus (for he still thought of himself as such and considered it highly unlikely that change anytime soon) had to actively let go some of the fear and resentment towards father figures in general before he could fully appreciate the gift of having a present, loving father.

What surprised Severus the most was that Elohim enjoyed being a father, even to a grown man. He confessed to enjoying being called Dad. Severus was amused. It was not as if he were trying to catch up for all those years. But Severus could have been fooled, as they tasted a little genuine father-child bonding in an extremely typical way most dads and kids did.

“Higher! Higher, son!”

“I can’t!”

“Don’t give up now! You are almost there! Keep your feet together!”

“But Da- _ad!_ I am tired!” It was the most un-Severusque thing to say, but he _was_ tired. Even then, he kept trying.

Muscles sore, Severus couldn’t help but feel the elation of his first solo flight. His father was right beside him, as if taking care of a little boy learning to ride a bike. To that newly reborn Severus, however, flying on his own wings was only comparable to the moment when he found out he was a wizard. There was fear and wonder and unparalleled freedom.

Not only that: Severus could feel more than the refreshing air hitting his face, or his sleek black wings pumping elegantly. What he couldn’t describe was the deep connection with every molecule of air passing through his body, the wholeness of the sky, the clouds, the ground and everything else. Everything was alive around him, and Severus found it difficult to remember that he had died.

“That’s it, son! You are doing great! Now,” urged Elohim, “let’s try landing one more time.”

And one more time Severus ungraciously dumped his body on the ground, thanking any gods that he didn’t break a leg or twist an ankle. Elohim put his feet on the ground smoothly before turning to him enthusiastically, “Very good, son! You are getting better every day! I knew you would. You are a natural!”

“It is a surprise,” confessed Severus. “I was never good with a broom.”

“That is probably because a broom felt alien to you, who had natural flying instincts. How did you like your first time without my help?”

“It was not bad,” he admitted, even though he still could feel the adrenaline rush. “Enjoyable.”

“Relax, son,” said Elohim. “Let it go now. If you fall, I’m here to catch you.”

Severus looked sharply at Elohim, his chest feeling too constricted all of a sudden. His father did not refer to flying, and he knew it. The warmth in Elohim’s clear eyes meant much more to Severus than mere acceptance. It was love, love as he had only seen in one other person during his time as a wizard. Severus felt overwhelmed with emotion.

“I believe your mother awaits us to have a nice meal.”

It was at another nice meal such as that when Apsara commented, “You seem to be getting more confident in the air, my son.”

“Thank you, Mother. I have never experienced great joy in flying until now, I must confess.”

“I’ve noticed you are really in a good mood. Perhaps now you could help someone who needs to see you.”

“Me?”

“Young Harry and his friends have been waiting to see you. I believe you are ready now.”

“They are still here?” Severus was alarmed, for all practical purposes he had forgotten all about the youngsters. “But… it’s been _months_!”

Elohim smiled at him. “You have already learned about time and perception. The retraining of your mind in our ways has made you aware of these concepts and how they work. The human science recognizes only the relativity of time and space as a continuum. We go a little deeper than that. You know that now.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “You mean my perception is that months have passed, and their perception is different.”

“Correct,” confirmed his father. “They believe you have been recovering a few days. Interestingly enough, I believe that the girl, Hermione, would understand our concept. She was the one who toyed with that artifact Dumbledore called a time turner.”

Apsara’s smile widened. “Time turner. Such a poetic name. Isn’t it, beloved?”

“Yes, my life. I do think the name holds an amount of poetry in it. Nevertheless, we digress. Son, I think you should see them. Especially young Harry.”

Severus hesitated. Truth was, he still didn’t know what to tell the young man. But it would be nice to see Lily’s son one more time.

Even if it was the last time.

Perhaps all this (dying, not dying, not being human) was meant to make him have a second life, one in which he didn’t have to protect her son, didn’t have to sacrifice his life, didn’t have to live in the shadow: didn’t have to uphold a false image for any powerful wizard, Dark or Light.

“You can let it all go now, son,” said Elohim quietly, reading his thoughts. “Besides, it’s not really goodbye. Now that you have been retrained as one of us, you know what you can do.”

It was true, thought Severus. He had learned so many new approaches, so much new information that now the magical powers felt like mere technologic improvements in comparison. He had no magic, yet he could do so much more than a mere wizard.

Besides, realized Severus, he owed Harry Potter at least some closure. They could also talk a bit about Lily. That would be nice, he smiled.

Apsara also smiled at him.


	15. Chapter 15

It was a huge surprise for Harry. When Apsara said Snape was well enough to meet them, he expected a recovering man in his bed. Actually, Harry had already seen in his mind’s eye a frail body, in bed. He recalled the grayish hue on Snape’s face inside Madam Pomfrey’s infirmary. The Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort could almost see the sallow skin and emaciated face framed by greasy locks of blackest hair. He did not expect to meet the man on an open field.

Not a field, not really, he corrected himself. It was a pitch. Not so different from the Quidditch pitch at school, Severus Snape was doing loops and turns up in the air.

Without a broom. With his wings.

“Blimey,” whispered Ron. Hermione had her eyes wide, too, her mouth open. Harry’s eyes were glued to the flying man gliding against the sky, which was a gentle shade of blue.

Snape had a shirt on, and that struck odd to Harry, seeing as he was freely moving his very impressive black wings. The grace, the strength, the strange dance made Harry’s hands itch for a broom. If he had his Firebolt, he’d be up in the air in no time alongside Snape. Then again, he might be paying more attention to Snape’s magnificent black wings.

In the few days they had been guests in Elohim’s homeland, Harry and the others hadn’t ceased to marvel at the variety of the people – and wings, as well. There had been white wings, and grey wings, and auburn wings, some as red as Ron’s ginger hair. Others were multicolored. Hermione said that the genetic diversity reminded her of not only human hair variation, but also animal fur.

Not only was this weird, but it looked like another planet. There were people flying in the streets. Apsara went with them and showed the high roads, which was their name for the flying lanes. Harry thought they could do the same with broomsticks someday.

All these thoughts fled Harry’s mind when a shadow crossed his vision and grew until Severus landed gracefully on both feet before the trio.

“Wow,” whispered Ron again. He looked quite impressed.

“That was quite impressive, sir,” Hermione managed to say.

“Thank you, Ms. Granger,” Severus answered, panting elegantly. “I trust you all are well.”

“We are, thank you, sir,” answered Harry. “How do you feel?”

“I am fine, thank you, Mr. Potter. Actually, I am extremely well for a dead man, wouldn’t you say so?”

Harry was dumbstruck at Snape’s sense of humor. The man also looked fine: his skin had lost most of its sallow hue, and the many lines on his face had faded. The sneer and (seemingly) perpetual scowl was gone from his face as well, so he not only looked younger, but also happier.

“I am glad you are okay, sir,” confessed Harry. “After all you’ve done…”

“I did what I had to do, Potter, just like you did. Think nothing of it. I just feel glad that the Dark Lord is truly gone, and now the Wizarding World can live without his menace hovering over it.”

“It was such a surprise,” said Hermione, “finding out about your true origins. We were told it was a surprise even to you.”

Producing a shirt from a pocket in his trousers, Snape put it on. “You’ve got that right, Ms. Granger. I had absolutely no idea.”

“But you seem to have adapted quite quickly to your real home, sir,” observed Harry. “If I may say so.”

“I have great lengths to go, Mr. Potter,” ensured Snape. “I am getting better at flying on my own wings, thanks to Father’s supervision, but I am treated as a child – technically, they say, I _am_ one. Children are taught to fly before walking, because then they are not prone to accidents. I, on the other hand, had none of this basic education. So I am not only a child but also a stranger to my own people. In short, I am nowhere close to having adapted yet, I am afraid. But I appreciate the welcome I have received.”

“Your parents seem to be very fond you, sir,” observed Hermione. “They have moved extreme resources to bring you home. Your father can be quite intimidating when he wants, and your mother is quite sweet.”

“Thank you, Ms. Granger. I will convey your impressions, although I am sure they wouldn’t allow you to come had you any objections to them – or me. I suppose at this point I am to thank you, Mr. Potter, also for the task of sheltering my mind within yours. I hope it was not too taxing for you.”

Harry shrugged. “I am glad I could do it, sir.” And he was sincere. It brought Harry a funny feeling in his stomach to watch Snape smirk a little in gratitude.

“Things here are so different from back home,” said Ron, in his first interruption.

Harry didn’t need to mention that Snape was also quite different. Not only was he relaxed, he looked better, although his skin was still sallow (a bit), the nose was still hooked, and his teeth were still yellow and crooked. The Man-Who-Killed-You-Know-Who observed that his former professor’s eyes were no longer cruel and glinting with malice.

Harry also chose not to tell Ron that this place (wherever it was) was Snape’s real home, not the wizarding world.

“I admit that people flying on their own wings is not an everyday occurrence in Wizarding Britain,” conceded Snape. “I sometimes find myself flabbergasted by the simple notion.”

“And how is it?” asked Harry. “Flying, I mean.”

“For the moment, I am suffering from lack of physical strength,” answered Snape. Then he smiled. “But it is a unique sensation.”

“I can just imagine,” said Harry, a twinge of jealousy at the winged man.

“As a wizard, I did not care much for flying in a broom. Mother says my nature was already manifesting itself. I am not sure, but I can tell you, Potter, that nothing remotely compares. And I don’t need to remind you that I was able to fly even without these wings.”

“I remember that. It was brilliant, Professor.”

“Please call me Severus. I am no longer your Professor, nor likely to be again.”

“Sir,” said Hermione, “are you not coming back with us?”

“I don’t see how I could return, Ms. Granger. Such an action would only result in grief and hardship. I will spare you that.”

“But sir!” Harry protested. “You are a hero. The Wizengamot has pardoned all your actions and granted you a medal of honor.”

“If I return, Mr. Potter, you will find the Wizengamot’s gratitude wearing thin. It is much easier to acknowledge a _dead_ hero than a live spy who had to murder of a beloved, formidable wizard.” Harry was about to protest, but Snape stopped him. “But that is not the main reason. I truly believe that this place has provided me with my second chance. My true family is here, and this is the place I am supposed to be. It is only fair that I give it a second chance, too.”

“But sir!” Harry repeated.

“Actually, I am quite grateful to you, Mr. Potter. I feel there’s hardly a place for me in the wizarding world. People would remember the things I was forced to do then get mad at me. In that event, some brave little Gryffindor such as you three would feel the obligation to defend my honor or such, and then there would be unnecessary tension or friction on you. I will not have that. I won’t let my past mistakes reflect on you.”

“But we owe you so much. It’s not fair.”

“I respectfully disagree. It is totally fair. The wizarding world has no place for me anymore, and, as I indicated before, I consider this circumstance a personal blessing, for a plethora of reasons.”

“It is still not right.”

“Should I remind you I am no longer a wizard? Or human, for that matter?” He flapped his wings, for effect.

That shut Harry up pretty good.

“Do not fret, Mr. Potter. Everything happens for the best.” He almost smiled, and it unsettled Harry. “Do you plan to return soon?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Hermione. “We were hoping you would return with us, but I’m sure people at home will understand your decision. Besides, Minister Shacklebolt was treating everything as classified.”

“As it should be,” agreed Snape. “It would not bode well if people suddenly feared the return of a deceased Lord Voldemort.”

Ron flinched a bit, and Hermione glared at him. Snape cleared his throat, as if he had missed the exchange, and said, “Father pointed out that perhaps you boys, as Quidditch fans, might be interested in flying a bit.”

Ron and Harry looked at each other, lost. “Flying?”

“Without a broom.”

The gasped. “You mean-?”

“Yes. If you are willing, of course.”

Harry was itching to accept the offer. But somehow it didn’t seem proper. The man had barely recovered from the jaws of death. Snape looked fine, but Harry thought that carrying him would not be good for his former Professor’s health.

“Fear not, Mr. Potter. I assure you this won't be detrimental to my health. Quite the contrary. My muscles will benefit from the exercise."

"But Sir," protested Harry, "I am not light and you are not a wizard anymore."

"True on both accounts," agreed Snape. "Even if there were not one, but _three_ magical persons in front of me to solve this problem," Ron's face became flaming red at this, "I am glad to inform you that my kind is not entirely bereft of such attributes and skills."

Harry couldn't help but notice the change in Hogwarts' former Headmaster. Once those words would have been said with pure venom and malice, yet now they were full of wit and mirth.

Hermione concluded, "So you _do_ have magical powers."

"What you call power is a mere matter of training, and magic is but a different perception."

"Elohim said something like that," she recalled.

Ron added, "Yes, but we didn't understand."

"Luckily, Mr. Weasley," said Snape, "one day your descendants will."

They looked around, a bit awed. Snape had to prompt them, "So, is anyone game? I have just warmed up."

Harry gave no chance for second thoughts, jumping at the chance with both feet. Things went better than expected. The sensations of flying without a broom (or a thestral or hippogryff, for that matter) were much more intense than he anticipated. Harry was acutely aware of the rush of the wind through this ears, the sun in his face, the perceived weightlessness of his body.

Although Harry was not quite comfortable in the arms of his second most hated former teacher (Umbridge was the first by far), he felt safe. Snape might have been his father's worst enemy, but he had also been his Mum's best friend and Dumbledore's most trusted pawn. He had dedicated his life to protecting Harry, and his invitation to fly on his own wings could have been his way to inquire if Harry trusted him.

Or, Harry realized alarmingly, watching Ron's impossible grin as he also experienced the joys of flying in the arms of an angel, it was Snape's way of saying goodbye.

"You really won't be coming back with us, will you, sir?"

Snape's smile faltered at Harry's blunt question. The other two had wide eyes, sobering up after the flying antics. A thick tension hovered above them, solid enough to be cut with a knife.

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Potter."

"Please call me Harry. I am _not_ my father, you know."

Snape's eyebrow shot up in amused acknowledgement. "Yes. I do know that, Harry. You are too much like your mother."

"I wish I could change your mind," confessed Harry. "I would really appreciate the opportunity to know you better, sir."

"Getting to know you would have been an interesting experience, I am sure."

Snape was giving that Snape-ish smirk of his, and it warmed Harry's heart to no end.

"Good luck, sir."

"I wish you all the same. But remember, Mr. Potter: from now on, I won't be around to save your hide."

Harry smiled, and shook hands goodbye. Ron and Hermione did the same, as Elohim and Apsara approached. So this was it: they would return without Snape.

Elohim was the one who took them back. Harry half heard the instructions and recommendations of Snape's father, watching his former Professor stay behind with his mother. He already knew that he could never tell the truth, and he was to act as if Snape had died in the Battle of Hogwarts.

But Harry paid little attention to this. All he could remember was that he would never see the man who saved his life so many times. The bravest man he ever knew.

o0o o0o o0o

Apsara broke the silence as soon as Elohim disappeared with the teens. "I notice you didn't tell them the truth."

"Part of it I couldn't tell anyway."

"You could have told them you will be coming back."

"It's better this way. You understand why I have to do this?"

"More than you think. Watching over the others is a deeply ingrained trait of our people. I know you feel responsible for young Harry. You care for him as if he were your own son."

"He could have been."

"Possibly. But now you will outlive him, and his sons, and the sons of his sons."

"And I shall watch over them as well. That's why it is better this way."

"But if they do not even remember you are alive..."

"This was Father's decision. And I, for one, agree with him. It is better if they don't remember. The only thing that pains me is that Harry will miss this closure about my role in the war."

"This may not be so. As keeper of the _midrash_ , he may be able to retain some of your memories or feelings. I dare say it may bring him closure."

"I am glad if it does. Missing opportunities are the worst kind of regret anyone can experience."

"You know this by experience, of course. That is why I am very confident you will do fine in protecting your young charge as a veritable guardian angel."

"Thank you, Mother."

"Of course, that does not mean I won't miss you, my son. I will only have your company here at home for the short period of your training."

"You are surely most welcome to visit me. And Father, too."

"Oh, we will be sure to stop by. Your father has a bit of a soft spot for humans."

"I noticed."

Apsara offered her arm and Severus took it. "So, shall we head back to the house? Your cousin Gabriel wants to know you. He'll give you tips about blending in with the humans and covering your tracks with multiple identities throughout time."

They started walking over the lawn. Snape observed in a sarcastic tone, "Mother, last I heard discretion was not Gabriel’s strongest suit."

"Oh, he has improved a lot in the last millennia or so. Have you heard of the Great Reykjavík Disaster that happened right after the death of Princess Diana of Wales?"

Severus arched one eyebrow. "I heard of the Princess’s death. But a great disaster in Iceland? No, I'm afraid I haven't heard about it."

Apsara beamed. "Exactly." She wiggled her eyebrows excitedly. "See? Discretion. Now, did you know we can alter the vibration of our molecules in such a way humans may not see us? You can be literally invisible to their eyes. Let’s not waste our time. There is so much you need to learn before you return to the human world."

Severus smiled, knowing he would miss his mother's witty and delicate humor. He had not lied to Harry Potter. The wizarding world had no place for him, and it would be relieved to hear he was done with it.

The truth was, though, that his real home was never really his home. Severus already felt a bit out of place, and he knew that he would be living a lifetime of feeling misplaced. Considering their lifespan, Severus thought it was an awful long time to feel a stranger in his own home.

Besides, Severus himself had a few things to work out himself, closure related. Lily's death, he believed, was not something he would ever get over, but now he was learning how to deal with such a keen loss.

Perhaps watching over her family for the next centuries would just do the trick.

## The End


End file.
